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“Yep.”
Leaving the room, I take one more glance over my shoulder and run my gaze over his navy suit. Enjoying how he looks in one and imagining for a second what it would be like to peel it off. I let the fantasy play out in my head as I turn in the elevator and his gaze hits mine. Stealing my breath away. Definitely peeling a suit like that off him would be the best fantasy ever. I can imagine his brown eyes turning heavy with desire and him focusing on my movements, encouraging me with his dirty mouth.
“I think they liked your hint of blue the best.” Mason’s voice pulls me out of my head.
“Yeah, I thought so too. But why did they take Marc-o.”
I almost called him by the nickname I give him. And I know Mason calls him Marc, so I’m sure he would have been wondering why I’m so casual, but I managed to save myself.
“Maybe they want him to tweak one of his. But I’m not worried. We provided what they asked, and they seemed happy, so let’s wait and see.”
I nod and wonder what will happen at the next meeting.
Will he try to talk to me again? And what will I do if he tries?
“I’m finished. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mason pops his head into my office.
I look up and wave. “See you tomorrow.”
He leaves, and I’m still finishing off my work. I’m half an hour past my usual finishing time, and it’s quiet around here. Nora likes her employees to have a good work/life balance so they perform better, so I need to hurry and get out of here.
I take the elevator, my eyes so heavy and sore from the long day. I can’t wait to order some noodle takeout and chill on my comfy couch that is screaming out my name.
I’m rubbing my eyes when the elevator door opens. Exiting the building I walk out mindlessly into the cool air. But I jump back when I seehim.
“Gracie.”
I shiver, not from the cold, but from the purr in his voice and the way he says my name.
“Marc, what are you doing?”
“Trying to talk to you. Please. Will you talk to me now?”
I try to take deep breaths, my throat constricting with the thought of him and me having this conversation. Peering around to make sure no one from work is seeing us, I nod. I need a drink. “Okay. But can we go somewhere else? I’m new here, and I don’t want to make a bad impression.”
He smiles. “I love your care for work. I wish you had told me when we first met. Maybe I could have helped you out. If it wasn’t a conflict of interest, I’d love you to work for me.”
I smirk. “Not going to happen, but where is a good spot for a drink?”
“Around the corner is a lounge, private, with good food and drinks.”
I nod and follow him. We walk side by side, and I’m quiet the whole way. It reminds me of the bar, back when I struggled to speak to him. He makes me nervous.
“Are you okay?” he asks, turning to read my face, but I keep my eyes focused on the street ahead.
“Yeah, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” My stomach flips.
“Sorry. Did you want to go home and do this another time?” he asks in defeat.
I shake my head as he looks at me, and my expression softens. “No, I think it’s best we talk. We will keep seeing each other at work, and it would be nice if we were on the same page.”
He frowns, not understanding what I mean. We reach the lounge, and he grabs the door, holding it open for me.
“Thanks,” I say and walk past him, straight inside. The hum vibrates through my body again.
“Just in here,” he says, pointing to a more private booth.
I walk over and take a seat. Sitting down opposite him, even though I want to be right next to him.
