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Hayley was already seated in the hotel restaurant when he arrived, tea cup and notepad on the table. Sliding into the chair across from her, Harrison wasn’t prepared for the way her eyes brightened.
“Good morning, Harry. Who’s your friend?”
Dammit, he loved the way his name sounded on her lips. The ‘H’ was softer, rounded. Smooth. Like an aged red.
He tucked the bear under the table. “Uh, no one.”
“Not a morning person, I see,” she said, the curl of her mouth rising sweetly.
“Oh, hello. Excuse me,” Hayley waved down a passing server. “My friend here needs coffee. Rather a lot of it.”
The young girl blushed. Hayley often had that effect on people. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”
Any hope that he’d find Hayley completely unappealing was a lost cause, as it always was.
Her hair was down, brown waves flipped to the side, the way it always ended up while she was deep in thought. Hungrily, he followed the drape of her sweater off a single shoulder, his eyes drawn to where it exposed hundreds of tiny freckles. They hadn’t had the chance to undress last time, and it was a damn shame.
“Thank you,” he said, for more than the coffee.
Hayley had raised her tea, her long lashes sweeping up to pin him with the same clever eyes that were his undoing. “You’re welcome.”
He found himself entranced by the steady movement of her fingers, the graceful tilt of her head, as she worked, making notes in the same worn notebook he’d seen her with yesterday.
He desperately wanted to know what it was filled with.
When the server returned with his coffee, he practically moaned.
“Don’t you find it annoying to write everything down?” he asked, his brain firing up. “You’ll just have to type it up later. It’s a waste.”
She laid the pen down and arched a brow at him. “I don’t like having my laptop at the table. It feels rude. This way I can make notes while I eat. It helps me tease out all the ideas I may have had during the night.”
Vivid memories of a night when she’d had some very good ideas surfaced then, even though he’d made a silent promise to stop jumping to those thoughts.One week, he reminded himself.
He nodded toward the buffet. “I’m gonna grab breakfast. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
It was as expected: powdered eggs, dry bacon, greasy potatoes, a selection of cereals, fruits, and yogurt. He loaded two plates: one hot, one cold.
“You either have a very high metabolism, or you’re secretly a hobbit,” Hayley teased when he returned.
Another green tick checked off in his brain, especially gleeful at the reference. He’d devoured those books as a kid.
“Before I forget,” he said, handing over the dozen sugar packets he’d pocketed from the buffet.
Then he focused on his food.
There was no way he was steady enough for the full weight of Hayley’s attention. Not without potentially embarrassing himself. The chances were high when she was involved.
But as the silence dragged on and his mind woke up, it was difficult to ignore his guilt. It wasn’t her fault he preferred to work alone and so was terrible at partnering and peopling in general. The least he could do was apologize.
“Look. I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday. I know it’s not your fault that I’m here. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
Across the table, she pressed her lips together, then relaxed, working around something she wasn’t saying. Probably an insult. He deserved it. He might not have wanted this job, but he was a professional, and he wanted her to know he could, and would, get his act together.
“Thank you, Harry. Apology accepted.”
He liked Hayley, and she was a talented writer. Maybe the project wasn’t as doomed as it had seemed yesterday. Maybe… he might even like working with her.
