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I consider it for a moment before responding. I can usually take care of myself, but this situation is more difficult than almost anything I’ve ever had to deal with before. Though he can be persistent and even pushy, I don't believe Aaron would ever step too far over the line. I doubt there is anything that would arise between us that I can't handle on my own.
“You have my word, Mr. Redwood,” I vow. “If anything happens, I'll come to you first.”
“Excellent,” he exhales, sounding relieved. “I very much appreciate that, Ms. Hall.”
With another thousand-watt smile, he leaves my office and I sit back in my chair, letting out a long breath. What a weird morning.
As I replay the conversation with Redwood in my mind, again and again, I keep coming back to that one thing – Aaron Steel hasn't stopped caring for me since college. I'm his weakness. His blind spot. So much so that his personal attorney – his fixer – feels the need to do some pre-emptive damage control.
I know it's stupid and dangerous, but I can't stop the flood of warmth that fills me, knowing that he still cares for me. I know it's a line of thought I need to shut down immediately. I can't afford to do anything that will put this job in jeopardy – not if I plan on going back to finish out my law degree and finally start my real life.
Yeah, it's not smart to even indulge those notions – but knowing how he actually feels, I can't seem to stop myself from doing just that.
Chapter Thirteen
Aaron
“I'm heading to Portland for a couple of days, so I need you to contact the charter company to arrange my flight.”
“Just can't bring yourself to fly coach with the unwashed masses, huh?”
I give her a shrug. “I hate waiting in line with the common folk for the bathroom,” I wink. “Besides, why travel with the unwashed masses when I can take a private jet? I almost had to fly business class to New York for Nick’s wedding last week – could you imagine?”
Emily grins and takes a bite of her salad. Now that a few weeks have passed, some of the initial tension has drained away. While I wouldn't say we're exactly best friends, we have a friendly working relationship. We both seem to have fallen into a routine. There’s a level of comfort that allows us to joke around more than we were able to at the beginning. We've managed to relax enough around each other that we can trade good-natured barbs with one another.
It's something I both enjoy and count as a positive sign in the progression of our ever-evolving relationship to each other. While I wouldn't go so far as to call things between us ‘warm’ just yet, it's certainly moving in a better direction.
“So, is there a special occasion today?” she inquires.
“Not that I'm aware of,” I answer. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I just wasn't sure why we're out having lunch?”
I shrug. “I was hungry and felt like getting out of the office for a little while,” I explain. “I figured we could go over plans for the next few days.”
She nods, though I can see a flicker of suspicion in her eyes. I've been careful to stuff it all down, but I'm pretty sure she's smart enough to know that I'm still interested in her. I'm doing my best to keep everything above board and professional. I'd still like to explore things with her and see where both of our feelings are, but I'm not going to force anything.
Every once in a while, I'll catch something in her eyes, or hear something in what she says, that leads me to believe she's still interested as well. Like she's dropping hints that she still carries her feelings around every bit as much as I do. But she's very good at camouflaging her feelings. I've always considered myself a master at keeping a passive, neutral face, but I think Emily may be even better at it than me. I can never tell from one minute to the next what she's thinking or how she's feeling.
She wears a mask of emotional indifference and has such tight control over herself, it very rarely ever slips. It's pretty damn impressive, actually.
We talk about some things I want her to do while I'm gone, and she offers up some suggestions for ways to improve efficiency in a couple of areas, which I greatly appreciate. I want Frontline running like a fine-tuned machine on all levels – and that includes, or perhaps even starts with me. Her suggestions make sense, and I vow to get them implemented as soon as possible.
I really enjoy the way her mind works. Emily's brain is always going. A hundred miles a minute, it seems. She's always thinking. Just based on my own observations, Emily sees the world with an entirely unique perspective. She's able to spot things others miss entirely. She really is one of the most intelligent people I've ever met, and I'm not being hyperbolic in saying that.
Once again, it makes me realize she should be putting that brain of hers to better use than finding a more efficient way to track and sort files in my office.
The waitress comes by and clears our plates. We both sit back, full after a good meal. Emily glances at her watch and I see her eyes widen slightly.
“Did you know we've been gone for almost an hour and a half?”
I shrug. “And?”
“Shouldn't we be getting back to the office?”
“Relax,” I tell her. “I've got an in with the boss. I'm pretty sure I can keep you out of trouble.”
She laughs softly. “I just don't want to take advantage of the situation.”
