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But the damn thing remains silent.
As soon as I settle at my desk, Sophie appears in the doorway. “Any word?”
I shake my head and hold my hand out to the chair across from my desk. “Nope. Just waiting for Cynthia to call me back. I still have to go see my brother since I canceled on dinner last night.”
“Oh, will his best friend be for dessert?” she teases as she makes herself comfortable.
I roll my eyes and turn on my computer without bothering to respond.
“You never told me how that happened, by the way,” she says.
I lean back in my chair, aware that she won’t let me get any work done until I tell her. “I met up with him when he returned from his last deployment. Cash was busy in Nashville, Chase and Carter were traveling, and you know how his family hasn’t been in the picture for years. Cash asked me to be there, and we love Frank, so of course I was happy to welcome him home.”
Sophie’s eyes flash and she steeples her fingers. “Oh, we do love Frank. The question is just how much?”
“It’s not like that,” I sigh. “We just…I don’t know…I brought him to his apartment and we ordered takeout and we drank too much. The guy hadn’t been with anyone for a long time because of the service…”
Sophie squeals. “So you serviced him!”
“Oh my God, you are a child. How are you managing to raise four of your own?”
She laughs. “Keep going.”
“That’s it.” I frown. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s really hot, gives amazing orgasms, and doesn’t expect anything more. Which, as we both know—”
“Is all you can offer. Blah, blah, blah. Keep saying that.”
I glare at her. “I have good reason for feeling this way.”
“Right, because our new boss broke your heart thirteen years ago.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I huff. “It’s not that simple and you know it.”
Sophie softens her approach. “Of course it isn’t, Cat. But refusing to acknowledge that you have feelings does not make them any less real.”
“I don’t have feelings for Frank,” I bite out.
A growl steals my focus. “Well, that’s good to hear,” Jay says, his frame taking up the entire doorway.
For a moment, the sight of him makes me forget to breathe. He’s wearing a gray suit—just like the first time I laid eyes on him. Fuck me for remembering that moment in such vivid detail. His hair is a mess, as if he’s been outside in the wind, or like a woman had her hands in it, gripping it while he went down on her—that thought sends a surprising zing of jealousy through me; one I refuse to analyze—and he’s carrying a cup of coffee.
“Mr. Hanson…” I mutter and leave it at that, because every other greeting I come up with wouldn’t be suitable for the workplace.Fuck you,Get the hell out of my office, andWhy the hell are you here?are all vying for first place.
“Oh, you do remember my name. Maybe we can start over,” he says, the smile never leaving his face.
Why the fuck is he smiling? Maybe it’s like when a psychopath cracks and smiles at his victim before going in for the kill. Because there is no reasonable explanation for the charming look he’s directing at me. We aren’t friends. He didn’t have the decency to return my phone calls thirteen years ago. Even after I caved and told himover voice mailthat we were having a child.
Sophie, who knows me better than anyone and can surely sense my impending loss of composure, props herself against my desk so she’s blocking his view of me. I’ve never been so excited to stare at a woman’s ass, and that’s saying something. “Let’s not. Instead of starting over, how ’bout you tell us why you’re here? Then we can move on with our day.”
I blow out a breath. Thank you, Sophie.
“I told Cat yesterday. I’m your new boss. Lucky for you both, we’ll be spending plenty of time together going forward.” He stalks into my office and sits in the chair next to the one Sophie just vacated, leaving him with a side view of me.
I huff, ready to let loose all the names I’ve come up with for him over the years, but before I can unload on him, my phone rings on the desk in front of me. Cynthia’s name flashes across the screen. “Finally,” I grunt out. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I’m so sorry. We were traveling. I didn’t get the news until we got back. I was going to call you, but then Jonathan Hanson called, and I had to talk to him first.”
My gaze slides to Jay. He’s watching me with a relaxed smile, coffee cup still in hand, and one leg crossed over the other casually.
