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“No problem. I’ll have these over to you in the next few days.”
“Perfect.” Whitney waved as she headed back to Scott’s car and quickly climbed in, desperate for the air-conditioning.
Scott got in, but he didn’t start the engine. Instead, he turned to face her. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That near-death experience.”
Whitney scoffed. “I’m a klutz, and you grabbed me—thank you. Let’s go.” She put on her seat belt. Air-conditioning would be fantastic any second now.
“You didn’t stumble. You almost passed out.”
Prove it.
“No, I didn’t. Can we go? I need to get to the office before a conference call with the East Coast.” She was desperate to get out from under his scrutinizing gaze. His perceptiveness made her uneasy.
“Well, I guess for once, you’ll be dropping the ball on something, because I’m not moving this car until you tell me what’s wrong with you.” He reclined his seat, folded his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.
Was he actually serious? She clenched her jaw, unwilling to reveal anything. She didn’t owe her assistant an explanation for anything. Especially not a guy who would use the truth against her to steal her job.
“Okay. Great,” she said. “I’ll just call Mayor Rodale and tell her why we won’t be in today.”
Scott opened one eye and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to tell my mom on me?”
She huffed. “Look, Scott, I’m just not feeling well today.”
“Pregnant?”
“You wish.” Within a three-month maternity leave, he’d have swooped in and repainted her office, filling it with sports memorabilia and a treadmill desk. Nope. Not happening.
“Stress?”
“Seriously? No! I could do my job blindfolded. It’s probably the flu or something I ate.”
“A flu that’s lasted months that causes your joints to swell and your vision to strain?”
Her mouth gaped. How was he the only person to notice? To call her out on it? Probably because, ironically, she spent more time with him—even inadvertently just being at the office together—than she did with anyone else.
Her back sweat against the leather seat, and she craved a cool blast of air. Rolling down the window didn’t help as the humidity just seeped in. “I have a water retention issue and…my vision is fine.”
“Come on, Whitney. We both know you approved those brochures with the glaring typo and the date of the—”
She held up a hand. She didn’t need to hear him replay her recent mistakes.
“I covered for you, but now you owe me the truth. Are you okay?”
His seemingly genuine concern could be fake, and he was the last person on earth she could trust with her secret. He’d use her illness against her the first moment he got. Yet, he hadn’t used any of her mistakes against her…
She shook her head. “I’m really fine.”
“What color are your shoes?”
She frowned, glancing down. She squinted. “Navy.” She’d laid them out the night before; they went with this outfit.
“One is,” he said.
Whitney leaned closer and squinted as hard as she could. Not only was her vision blurring, but colors had also started to become harder to detect.
