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“I also told your department head I’m only popping by to chat with you about how it’s coming along and to touch base. Everyone’s aware it’s a professional visit.”
I knit my hands together on the desk. “Of course. What do you want to know? Things are coming along great, and I’m confident we’ll have it ready in time.”
He leans back in the chair, and beneath my desk, I feel the brush of one of his long legs against mine. “How have you been?”
“Since the weekend?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Great, actually,” I say. The memory of what had happened in the shower must play across my face, evident in my gaze.
His eyes warm. “Great? Funny. So have I.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I must have had a relaxing weekend.”
“I can’t imagine you did,” I say. “You flew in from another country, were forced to play in a tennis tournament with a crazy woman you work with, and then you…”
“Then I what?”
I shake my head. “Never mind.”
The words that had come to my mind aren’t fit to be spoken in an office, and I can’t bring myself to say them.And then you got hot and heavy without the reward.
Isaac runs a hand along his jaw. “Because I couldn’t… finish what I started?” he asks. “I’ll admit that was frustrating at the time, but it was still worth it. Overall a very pleasant experience.”
“I’m glad,” I murmur. “Because it was for me, too.”
He gives a wide smile. “I noticed. So, I’ve been thinking about the rules.”
“The rules,” I repeat. “Which ones? Oh, that I don’t date Upper East Side men? And you don’t…”
“Mix business and pleasure, yes,” he says. “They’ve been on my mind quite a bit since your shower.”
Heat rises beneath my blouse, inching toward my neck.Bad idea,but it’s so well-packaged, and sitting right in front of me. I remember the feeling of his hand, strong and broad, sliding down my stomach to find what it sought.
I swallow hard. “And what have you decided?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.
“So stopping by to see St. Clair was a ruse?”
“Yes, but don’t tell him that. His ego would never recover.”
“I’ll keep it between us,” I say.
Isaac braces an arm against my desk. “You’re pitching my executive team in two weeks. Correct?”
“Yes,” I say. Then I start to smile. “And it’s onlyafterthe pitch that your team has to decide about hiring us to manage the project or not.”
“Exactly. Which means we’re not technically in business together until that decision is made,” he says. “The pitch is like an audition.”
“Airtight logic.”
He chuckles. “Well, it takes care of the business and pleasure part. Now, you want to avoid dating men from New York, right?”
“Not from the entire city,” I say. “That’d make life pretty hard. But from Upper East or West Sides. Anyone who’s ever been to a country club is automatically ruled out.”
