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A scowling, boss lady Sloane was alluring and sexy.
A smiling, tired, laughing Sloane was intoxicating and dangerous.
He wanted more.
When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Jed ushered her out before him, careful not to touch her.
“Ask me again,” she said as they neared the main exit.
“What?”
“Ask me again.” She fished a set of keys from the bag on her shoulder and then hit him with big, dark eyes that looked hopeful.
“Have dinner with me.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “See you in the morning.”
Chapter Eight
Sloane
“Morning.”
Sloane dropped her phone when she heard Jed’s voice behind her. She gaped at him over her shoulder, surprised to see him here at the gym. Even though he’d said he would meet her here for a workout. She’d thought he was teasing her, and she assumed once she said she would go out with him, he would forget about a workout, and stop bugging her.
“Good morning,” she mumbled as she watched him approach the row of treadmills and elliptical machines arranged at the east window on the second-floor gym in the Washington Building.
“What’re you doing here?”
Jed slowed his steps and held his arms out at his sides, as if to say what do you think I’m doing here? Dressed in dark athletic shorts and a gray t-shirt, he was obviously dressed for some sort of exercise. Sloane glanced at her phone, balanced on the end of the treadmill she’d been about to climb on, but before she could move to grab it, Jed did it for her.
“Thank you.” She reached for it, but he swung his hands away, eyes on the screen.
“’What You Won’t Do For Love’.” Jed narrowed his eyes at the screen, her playlist, and then tilted his head to look at her. “Who is Bobby Caldwell?”
“Can I have my phone, please?” She reached for it again, but this time, Jed turned away from her.
“Boz Skaggs.”
She heard him muttering as he scrolled down her list.
“Seriously, Sloane, how old are you?” he asked as he looked at her again. “This music is insane.”
“It’s relaxing,” she answered.
“I have an idea.” He stepped up on the treadmill next to the one she’d chosen.
“Great.” She offered him a fake smile, oddly touched when he sent her a soft laugh.
“Let’s switch phones for our runs.”
“How do you know I run? Maybe I just walk.”
“Splitting hairs,” he argued.
“What do you mean switch phones?” She huffed out a sigh of resignation and stepped onto her treadmill.
“You listen to my playlist, which is stellar,” he grinned, “and I’ll listen to…yours.”
