Chapter 9
James’s offices were in what would have looked like just another derelict building if it wasn’t for the reflective glass in the windows and the minimalist but neatly groomed gardens at the entrance. Once I went inside, however, there were only stylistic touches that betrayed the building's rougher history. It looked like a real office. The floors were restored and polished wood and ventilation shafts hung down from the high ceilings above the sea of cubicle walls. The rest was painfully modern and simple, like an Ikea store had a wet dream inside.
James had come a long way from his apartment living room. There must have been a hundred people working here. For the first time, my stepbrother’s success really hit me. He built all of this. This was his.
I was impressed, but I was also a little intimidated. But I had come prepared. Before I walked in the front door, I readjusted myself in my tight sweater, which really accentuated what a woman I had become in New York.
Now all I had to do was get the receptionist—a cute redhead who immediately made me jealous with her creamy skin and full, pouting mouth—to let me see him.
“Mr. Coleman doesn’t have any appointments this afternoon,” she said. For the millionth time.
“I know that. You’ve made it very clear. But if you could call him and tell him Tessa from Springfield is here, I’m sure he would make an exception.” I was using my best friend’s name. No reason to publicize that I was his stepsister when nobody knew who I was.
“Mr. Coleman is very particular about his schedule,” she said. “If you’d like, I could see if he would be willing to meet with you later in the week.”
Okay, this was taking too long. “Just one second,” I said.
I wanted to walk in on him, to surprise him, but I could tell that wasn’t going to work. I texted him instead.
Reception, please.
And waited.
The redhead rolled her eyes and went back to her computer while I stood staring over the cubicles. There were what looked like closed offices along the furthest wall, the one that would have a view of the harbor.
The redhead peaked over the rim of her glasses at me. I sent James another text.
Reception! Go to your reception, jerk!
“Look, miss. If you don’t want to schedule another appointment, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the secretary said, turning her full attention back to me.
“That’s not necessary, Lauren.” I turned at the sound of his gravely voice. James and several other people—college kids with laptops, from the looks of them—were coming out of a pair of double doors just off the reception area. “I was in a presentation,” he explained, holding up his phone.
“It’s okay,” I said, my voice wobbling. He had grown out his facial hair to a thick stubble, too long to be just a five-o’clock shadow. It made him look older and his green eyes stood out even more. They looked bright in the white light pouring through the tall windows behind me. My eyes moved down to his lips as they curled in an expression of curious, but not unhappy, surprise.
I could tell he was waiting for me to say something, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. Seeing him, being near him again, seemed to have shut down certain parts of my brain.
“Okay. Why don’t you come with me? We can talk in my office.”
He walked us through the cubicles to his office and closed the door behind him, then walked through the room to stand behind his desk. I made it a few feet past the door and froze.
“Well, this is unexpected,” he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Why are you in Boston, Allie? You should have let me know ahead of time, we could have had dinner or something.” Which implied of course that he already had plans. Did he have a girlfriend? How had it never occurred to me to ask?
His defensive body posture, the distance and the desk between us, the shock of seeing him again, it all threw me off. Suddenly, everything was feeling like a huge mistake. “It was sort of last second,” I admitted.
He checked his watch. “Well, I’ve got a half hour or so until my next meeting. Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he said, arching an eyebrow curiously. He sat down in his chair and leaned back into it, his hands behind his head as he studied me. “So what’s up? Why are you here?” He sat up straighter, his expression darkening. “Nothing bad happened, did it?”
“No, no. Nothing like that,” I quickly assured him. I tried to settle my racing heart, but his aloofness had shaken my confidence. But what had I expected? For him to grab me and confess his love for me on the spot?
His eyes stared at me, and for the first time they strayed from my face. As he looked over my figure, I saw a flicker of the darker desire I recognized from his car. It was something.
I knew just what to do. I pulled my purse around and opened it, digging for the card.
“Are you all right, Allie?” he asked.