I grin. “Wow. Is there anything I need to bring for this trip?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll prep everything. All you have to do is show up at the airport on Friday looking pretty. I’ll text you the details.”
Chapter Twenty
Amy
The week’s going great. Much better than I expected.
Although Emmett agreed to keep our fling a secret, I worried a little that he might change the way he treats me, which would let the more observant gossipmongers in the office figure out something’s up.
But nope. He doesn’t do any of that.
He still texts me this-or-that questions, which is fine. I don’t mind helping him out with his market survey. He also tells me to redo my Excel models, probably for “fun training.” But instead of waiting until it’s five fifty-five p.m., he asks between two thirty and three thirty, which is an improvement so massive it brings appreciative yet slightly peeved tears to my eyes. The annoyance being that he could’ve done this before.
Still, I get to leave by nine o’clock. A true miracle.
Of course, Sasha notices. “Did you tell Emmett he’d better let you go home early because you aren’t going to stick around much longer?” she whispers in the break room on Wednesday. She and I haven’t had a chance to talk since my fling with Emmett started. She came back from San Francisco late on Sunday, and she’s been super busy since then with urgent deadlines from Grant, only coming home to shower and change, then head straight back to office. She’s been living on nothing but gummy worms and coffee for the last three days. “You’ve never gone home before eleven back to back before.”
I start to answer, then remember what Emmett said about this room being not so private. “No. But I think he’s finally realized I do better work with at least seven hours of sleep.”
The extra sleep has other side effects. Like quadrupling Emmett’s attractiveness. The man is already hot as hell, but when my brain is crystal clear with sufficient rest, the impact of his sparkling blue-gray eyes and smiling mouth hits me like TNT detonating.
Thankfully, nobody seems to have noticed anything’s different. Emmett hasn’t eased up on cracking hearts and crushing souls. Webber still walks around looking dejected, and Diana still seems like she’s ready to burst into tears at any time.
Anyway, since Sasha did notice my changed schedule, I decide to stay late and get some extra work done. No need to get on her finely honed suspicion radar.
I review the models and memos that the analyst working with me on the Drone project sent. Janey went too conservative. A very gloomy outlook. Her explanatory notes aren’t bad, but they show that she disregarded data that contradicts her position. Not good.
Her job is to look at all the data and then make a judgment call. She’s been with the firm for the last eleven months, so somebody should’ve taught her that by now. Who was she working with before?
I look up her profile on the intranet database… Webber.
I shake my head. He should’ve mentored her better. I send a quick email to Janey, asking her to redo her model. The server syncs; the email disappears from the outbox.
I feel vaguely annoyed. And…a little weird. Like I just pulled an Emmett Lasker bosshole maneuver. Well, not quite that bad. Unlike Emmett, I didn’t tell her to stay up until two a.m. to get it done. Besides, this is for her benefit. She has at least one more year to go at GrantEm.
My phone buzzes.
–Emmett: Can you come over to my office?
Hopefully he hasn’t found some Excel model that requires an immediate redo.
Maybe it’s karma.
Shut up.
I stop myself from running my fingers through my hair and stand up. Emmett and I established a firm rule that we’re going to be professional in the office. Remember that. No need to primp.
I take a deep breath and make my way toward his office. It’s a little after ten, and the floor is empty. The cleaning crew doesn’t come in until four thirty a.m. Plus I guess everyone’s having a slow day, since we usually have some people at desk on Wednesday nights. Even Sasha and her team went home by ten. Grant ordered them all to get six hours of sleep, since they’ve been dragging their feet like zombies.
I knock on the door, like a good, professional employee, even though nobody’s around to see.
“Come in,” Emmett calls out.
I open the door and walk inside. Before I can take a breath, the door slams behind me, and Emmett’s mouth crashes down on mine.
You’re in the office! Kissing is not professional! Sadly, the voice of judgment is no match for the hot lust