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I barely hear Vanessa’s surprised snort at the words that slipped out of my mouth like a bar of soap slips through wet hands.
All I can think is that this cannot be real life. Things like this don’t happen in real life. And if they do, they happen inGilmore Girls-esque towns with tight-knit communities who get breakfast at a single coffee shop owned by a handsome, flannel-clad grump.
Things like this don’t happen in major cities of millions—where you can bump into a hundred people every day of your life and safely bet that you’ll never, ever see them again.
I sneak a thumb and forefinger to the soft part of my underarm and pinch. Hard.
Ouch!
Pain radiates through me, sharp enough to make my eyes sting.
Not dreaming, I guess.
Could it be that this is all a set up and I’m being Punk’d? I glance around for hidden cameras. Unless Ashton is crouching behind that fake cactus in the corner, there’s nothing to indicate that this is a TV show prank.
No, it’s really freaking happening. The man I woke up clinging to like a spider monkey not two days ago is here. In front of me. Not only that, but he’s mycoworker.And judging by the fuss Vanessa’s making, he’s pretty darn important around here, too.
The mathematical chances must be, like, millions to one. Billions, perhaps.
I close my eyes for a quick moment, and smooth down my dress as I compose myself.
Freaking Rosemary and her crazy fate talk. She must have had something to do with this.
Vanessa’s expression, meanwhile, goes from abject horror to curiosity as she peers at me, then Liam. “Hang on. Do you two—”
“Liam Donovan,” Liam cuts her off, offering one big, meaty hand to me. The gesture is totally at odds with his brusque tone, and when I finally dare look at him, I’m stunned to see the look on his face: eyebrows knit together, mouth neutral, eyes expressionless. Void of any recognition.
Vanessa swallows the rest of her sentence and chuckles. “Never mind.”
I stare blankly at Liam for just a smidge too long. He’s really going to pretend we’ve never met? Or does he truly not remember me?
I mean… there’s no way, right? We spooned. Spooned!
Although, maybe he’s a serial spooner who has so many spoonees that he can’t recall them all.
Brain, would you ever shut up?
He must remember me; he’s not a goldfish. He’s doing this on purpose. Must be.
And two can play at that game.
I put on an easy, breezy smile and place my hand in his outstretched paw. His grip is firm, his skin warm, rough and calloused. For a shadow of a second, when that hand touches mine, I swear I see his dark eyes flicker with something that tells me I’m not the only one thinking about the Econo Hotel. That sexy pine forest smell is still radiating from him, and I have a very sudden, very primal urge to inhale deeply.
Which, of course, I resist doing. Because I’m no longer in bed next to him, but at work with my new colleague, for crying out loud!
Before I can make a further fool out of myself, I remove my hand from his vice-like grip and step back. Smile in a way that implies my heart isn’t currently beating a thousand times per minute. “Annie Jacobs. It’s a pleasure to meet you,Mr. Donovan.”
He doesn’t say “likewise” or “call me Liam.” He doesn’t even welcome me to the company.
Nope. He simply sets his jaw, looks at me like it’s quite the opposite of a pleasure to meet me, then turns to talk to another suit—a graying guy who introduced himself as Jamal earlier. “Nader, you deploy the new code yet?”
On the plus side, at least I’m not the only one not to get a “good morning.” Jamal must be used to this, because he simply nods and moves to the boardroom table. Liam—Mr. Donovan—bends over the desk to take a look at the code-filled screen.
I stand stiffly, unable to tear my eyes from the man at the end of the behemoth table. He’s even taller and broader than I remember, has that kind of powerful stature where his suit jacket strains at the top button.
“Don’t worry,” Vanessa hisses as we take our seats. “It’s not you, it’s him.”
“I figured,” I say quietly.
