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“Aren’t you going to ask me out?”
“I was,” I smile coyly, “as soon as I finished this document. We have a reservation for Saturday.”
“A reservation? How do you know I’ll be available?” He crosses the room and puts his hands on my desk, leaning forward to close the distance between us.
“You said for me to pick the time and you’d be there,” I whisper, breathless, unable to look away from the eyes that are bearing down on me.
“So, I did.” He leans forward and places the softest of kisses on my lips. “What is our reservation?”
“That’s a surprise.” I smirk. “But you can pick me up at one.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He puts his hand behind my head, pulls me in for a brief but lust-filled kiss, then walks down the hall to Charlie’s office. “What’s this about needing a projector in the conference room?” he says as he opens Charlie’s door.
I’m dumbstruck. Not only does Chris completely take my breath away just by standing in the door, he sends my hormones raging with his kiss. But my pulse isn’t just racing because of that kiss; it’s racing because it happened in full view of anyone who walked by my office, which makes me uneasy.
We haven’t really talked about what, if anything, we’ll tell the rest of the company about our involvement, and I don’t want to be caught off guard. I also don’t know if he’s spoken to Charlie about us or not. Part of me hopes so, because I hate the idea of being dishonest, and part of me hopes not, because I’m not ready to share this with the office yet. It’s too - I’m tempted to say special - but it’s probably too early for that. Too new, for sure. But also too different.
The first time Chris came to my house and said he was looking for happiness, I’d been a little wary, not sure he was being genuine. But after our first date, after he slowed things down, I realized that wasn’t just a line. He isn’t the playboy I jokingly accused him of being. He isn’t interested in someone to kill time with. He wants something more tangible than that. So do I, but in my experience, admitting that is the surest way to avoid a second date, and men who agreed were often just giving me a line. I initially assumed Chris was no different, but the more we talk, the less I doubt what he has to say. In fact, the more we talk, the more I feel like I can relate to him.
Chris is playful, intelligent, sincere, and obviously cares deeply for his brother. I like that about him. I still feel like he’s not opening up completely, like he’s being cautious, but I’m okay to take it slow. I appreciate the nuances of relationships that are built over time. I am a romance writer after all, and wherever this is going, I want to experience it to the fullest.
I open the door an instant after the bell rings and silently curse myself for appearing so anxious. But one look at Chris and my embarrassment evaporates, replaced by desire, and from the look on his face, he feels the same.
Without consciously deciding to move, I lean forward and brace my palms on his chest, meeting his soft lips in a gentle kiss. “Hi,” I breathe.
“Hi.” He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me to him, nuzzling against my neck. “I missed you.”
“You just saw me yesterday.” I smile.
“Only for a few minutes, and I waited all week for that.” He kisses me leisurely, and a sigh escapes my lips. I can’t remember ever being so consumed by a kiss, yet Chris only has to brush his lips across mine and I’m tempted to pull him inside and forget the date altogether.
“So, what are we doing today?”
“Building terrariums.” I bite my lip, waiting for his response.
“Huh?”
“You know, a miniature greenhouse.”
“What do you do with a miniature greenhouse?” Chris balks, letting his hands slide to my hips so he can study my face.
“You enjoy it.”
“How?”
“It’s like art, only you make it.” I trace the collar of his shirt with my fingers, smiling when I hear his breath hitch. “You said you had art in your house, and you like to work with your hands, so this way you get to create your own art.”
“But wouldn’t I have to take care of it?” He frowns.
“Terrariums take less maintenance than the office does. I bet you can manage.” I give his chest a little pat.
Chris leans his forehead against mine. “But you’re at the office, so I don’t mind that maintenance.”
I run my fingers through his hair, lightly teasing the back of his neck. “Well, if you think taking care of a few plants at home is too much, you can leave it at the office and take care of it whenever you stop in.”
“I can work with that.” Chris gives me a quick peck on the lips then threads his fingers through mine as we walk to the car. “Where are we headed?” he asks when we’re settled in the truck. I give him the name of a local brewery, laughing at the confused look on his face. “We’re building greenhouses in a brewery? As in a place that makes beer?”
“Did I forget to mention that?” I smirk. “Yes, while we build our little greenhouses, we can sample the menu. Does this sound more interesting now?”
