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Ricky, one of Elite’s drivers checked in late on Friday afternoon.
His limo had broken down, and I scrambled to find something else since Micah was on the phone with his little brother Sean behind his closed door, hollering more often than not.
It took me over a half-hour, keeping me in the office after five, but Ricky and his escort headed into Boston while I made another call to explain their tardiness to the woman expecting them.
Normally, Micah dealt with such situations, personally getting in touch with the clients to ensure no bumps in the road caused issues. I hoped he didn’t mind that I’d taken care of the problem since his brother kept him on the phone.
I turned off my computer and slipped my feet back into my sandals. Moving around the room, I shut the two windows and gathered my stuff.
The rumbling of Micah’s voice quieted, and I waited a few more seconds before calling out my usual good night when I left before him.
His door opened, and he glanced at the purse in my hand. “Heading out?”
“Yes.” I explained about Ricky and that I’d called the client. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I hope that’s okay.”
“As long as everything turned out all right, I’m happy.”
I didn’t turn to leave as I ought to.
I’m off the clock. I’m not his employee right now, am I?
We’d stepped past the boundaries in becoming friends over the past week, but I hadn’t attempted to test my luck since losing my shit over spilled papers and an accidental touch. But it had been to my wrist…
Talk about taking steps backward after moving forward so damn easily. I’d gotten down on myself. Allowed a hint of depression to creep in and keep me from trying again.
Micah hadn’t questioned me or pushed for information for which I was thankful. The small freak-out had brought back up my past a bit, and I hated the setback.
He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
Warmth sprang to life between my thighs, and my heart jumped. He hadn’t initiated anything, ever, but I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to spend time with him outside the office. Maybe I would get brave again. “S-Sure.”
Tipping his head toward the door leading into his home, he smiled. “Come on in.”
For the first time since I’d started working for him two months earlier, I walked over the threshold of the Fox’s lair. While I’d seen the living room beyond, I’d never had the gall to snoop when he went out of town.
Warm colors, leather, paintings, a wide stone fireplace…definitely a man’s home, but inviting. Soothing, I figured, but at that moment, my blood rushed, and thoughts fluttered around like a bunch of dive-bombing bats gobbling up mosquitoes.
“Have a seat,” he said.
I shot a text off to my mom, telling her I had to work late so she wouldn’t worry, and climbed onto a barstool at the massive island dominating his chef’s kitchen. Stainless-steel appliances gleamed, and the granite countertops were cluttered with high-end gadgets.
Micah moved around the kitchen, gathering things from the fridge and cabinets. “Do you cook?” he asked, his back to me.
Appreciating the muscles rippling beneath his tight T-shirt, I swallowed. “A little.”
“I started using Healthy Chef a couple of weeks ago.”
“Those meals-in-a-box businesses were a great idea for whoever thought it up. Is their food any good?”
“So far.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Want to help?”
“Sure.” I slid off the stool and rubbed my damp palms down my skirt.
“Why don’t you pour us some wine, and we’ll dive into the recipe together and see if we can hit it out of the park.”
Jitters still jumped in my stomach, but my hands were steady while I filled two glasses he’d pulled from the corner cabinet.
I held the stem of the half-full glasses and offered him one. My heart sped as he glanced down at my fingers.
