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She closed the drawer and stood. Her back went ramrod straight as she looked at the captioned photograph on the top of the filing cabinet. The one taken when he’d received an industry award last year.
He walked over to stand next to her, making sure not to crowd her.
‘Look, I think you’re a woman who likes to call it straight and, since we both know there’s a strong physical thing going on here, why waste time pretending otherwise?’
She continued to look at the photograph, then took another deep breath and turned to look up at him, making his pulse kick like a frigging donkey.
After a brief hesitation, she placed her palm against his chest, and he swore her guarded eyes went a darker green. ‘I do like straight talking, but I also like to think around things.’
‘Then start thinking.’ He winked, smiled. ‘Make it fast.’
Another hesitation, then she laughed. Shit. He really liked that laugh, the way she paused before she got the joke and then the laugh bubbled from deep in her throat.
‘Trust me, as much as I’m tempted, it’s not a good idea. For a variety of reasons.’
‘Name one.’
She blinked, as if she hadn’t expected the question. ‘Well, we don’t know each other. Like you said, the response is physical.’
What the fuck was wrong with that? ‘Physical responses can be the best ones,’ he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. ‘Less chance things get complicated.’
She laughed again, her eyes meeting his for long moments. It made him wonder if she was enjoying their flirtatious banter as much as he was but was determined to hold back, to fight against their obvious attraction. ‘You may be right about that.’ Her smile was a little wistful as she reached up to tap the plaster. ‘Make sure to keep that on for a while.’
What the hell did that mean? Was she giving him the old heave-ho? He wasn’t prepared to let her walk away that easily.
Maybe he really had come on too strong. She said one of the reasons this was a bad idea was because they didn’t know each other. Well, that he could remedy.
‘So, about that drink.’
She was at the door, her back to him and with her fingers wrapped around the handle. For what seemed like an age during which Connor held his breath, she stood there, no doubt taking her time to deliberate.
Then she turned to look over her shoulder at him. ‘I’ll meet you at the bar.’
