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Probing me from head to toe, his warm brown gaze roaming over my cardigan, my tights, my simple flats, and back up to my blushing face.
“Are you alright?” Darius asks, ducking down to meet my eye.
His voice is deep and smooth, like rich melted chocolate. It raises the tiny hairs on my arms, and I wrap myself in a hug like I can save myself from this indignity.
From losing my head over the company heartthrob.
Swooning like all those interns.
I may not be a bombshell myself, but a girl needssomepride, damn it, and Darius Amin is not the kind of man for me.
I knew it from a distance, and it’s been confirmed a hundred-fold up close, because it turns out Darius really is tall and graceful with movie-star good looks, while I’m a bookish, curvy accountant with tortoiseshell glasses.
We are not on the same level. And yet he’s still looking at me likethat, with equal parts concern and curiosity. What is going on?
“I’m fine.” The words scrape out of my throat, but I raise my chin, daring my interloper to deny it. “I came in here for highlighters.” Up waves Exhibit A. “Better get back out there.”
And I’ve said all the right things, made all the right moves to leave, but Darius Amin still stands in front of the door, peering at me. My tummy squirms. “It’s Lucy, isn’t it?”
Um. Yeah.
But how does he know my name? This is a pretty big office, and our paths have never crossed before. Did he see me and ask someone who I was? Did he notice me the way I noticed him?
No. That’s ridiculous.
That’s a love-struck intern level of delusion.
“Yes. And you’re Darius?”
Cringe.As if everyone in this building doesn’t know the composer’s name.
But he smiles, slow and warm. “That’s me. Nice to finally meet you, Lucy.”
Finally? Finally meet me? What doesthatmean? And why is he opening the door for me like that, waving me out into the corridor like a gentleman?
“We should get coffee,” Darius says, his words ringing in my shocked ears. He turns and leans in the supply closet doorway, still pinning me with that intense gaze. “Something tells me we would be great friends.”
Friends.
…Right.
My stomach sinks, but I force myself to nod and smile, fiddling with the highlighter packet. “That would be lovely.”
Because of course he only wants to be friends. What else would Darius Amin want from me? And I should be happy, not queasy and disappointed, because friends are a blessing.
Even startlingly handsome friends.
“Tomorrow?” Darius presses. He really wants this coffee, huh?
My head nods, mechanical.
Guess I just befriended the company heartthrob. Huh.
My stomach churns all the way back to my desk.
* * *
