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I swiped my phone off and rushed out of his apartment, double-checking that the door locked behind me while looking around for the stairwell. But as I headed toward it, the elevator dinged, so I backed up and rushed in as soon as the doors slid open—and almost collided with a woman coming off.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
The woman had to be over six-feet tall with the statuesque heels she had on. And five of those feet were legs.
She looked me up and down. “Why are you on this floor?”
“I, umm…” I pointed over my shoulder to penthouse two. “I had to pick up a file for Merrick.”
She tilted her head and squinted. “And you are?”
“I work at Crawford Investments.”
“Oh.” The woman gave me a last once-over and seemed to lose interest. She stepped around me. “I should’ve guessed that.”
What the hell did that mean? I was pretty sure it was an insult, but when the elevator doors started to slide closed, I realized I didn’t have time to worry about it. So I jumped inside, glancing over my shoulder toward where Miss Daddy Long Legs was heading. Apparently, she lived in penthouse one—or at least she had the key.
Andrea was back at her desk when I returned, so I explained what had happened, and she quickly took the file to the boss.
The rest of the day was pretty unremarkable. I didn’t see Merrick again until his voice made me jump at seven that evening. I’d been reading and hadn’t heard him approach my open office door.
“Did you get here at the ass crack of dawn again this morning?”
I smiled. “Maybe a little later.”
He had a leather strap diagonally across his chest, with a stuffed briefcase hanging behind him. He looked at his watch. “Why don’t you go home? You don’t have to work twelve hours a day.”
“Thanks. I was just going to pack up.” I lifted my chin, motioning toward his bag. “Looks like you plan on working a lot more than twelve hours with that bag.”
He nodded. “I have a lot of shit to catch up on. Unfortunately, I have a dinner meeting first.”
Merrick’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the screen, and swiped to answer with a groan. “I’m on my way.”
The other person said something I couldn’t make out. It made Merrick roll his eyes. “I’ll avoid it. Thank you. See you in a bit.”
He swiped his phone off, shaking his head. “Don’t become one of those annoying New Yorkers who has to tell everyone what route to take to get somewhere.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem. I barely know my right from my left.”
Merrick smiled. I thought it might be the first real, unguarded one I’d been treated to. I pointed to his face. “You should do that more often.”
“What?”
“Smile. It makes you seem like less of an ogre.”
“So I’m an ogre?”
“Well, I think you have to be a minimum of nine-feet tall to be an ogre. So maybe a mini ogre.”
Tiny wrinkles creased around his eyes as he smiled again, even as he tried to hide it. “By the way,” he said. “That reminds me—I never thanked you for not dropping a dime on me to Grams.”
“What do you mean?”
“She told me you said I was polite and professional in our first interview. In hindsight, perhaps I was a little curt.”
“A little?”
Merrick smiled some more. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down before shaking his head. “Now I’m supposed to avoid 144th at Convent Avenue for some reason.”
