So if she liked him, and he liked her, why the boundaries?
The digital purr of her office phone answered her question. Because office romances rarely worked out. That was why companies had no-dating policies.
And sexual harassment laws.
“Crickitt Day,” she answered.
“A few of us are going to Kung Chow’s. Would you like to go?” Keena asked.
“Um, no, thanks, I brought my lunch today.” She didn’t need fried rice. What she needed was a slap upside the head, a reminder of what was important. She said good-bye to Keena but instead of returning the handset, she punched a button for an open line and dialed Sadie’s cell phone number.
What she needed was her best friend to set her straight. If anyone knew how to not get distracted by a man, it was Sadie Howard.
* * *
Shane would choose a Novocain-free dental visit over Lori LaRouche’s nasal voice any day of the week. He managed to smile through their meeting; that is until she teased his lapel with one red talon and invited him back to her place. He begged off through gritted teeth, claiming he had another meeting.
Lori was beautiful, he’d add “for an older woman,” but that wasn’t fair. Lori was beautiful, period. He’d had dealings with Lori in the past, and as much as he wished they were strictly business dealings, they weren’t. He had been twenty-one, with shaky confidence and a rocky bank account. Lori had been an in-her-prime thirty-five and had taken an interest in him. Thirty-five. That’s how old he was now. He couldn’t imagine having an interest in a twenty-one-year-old. Especially one as immature as he’d been.
Back then, Shane hadn’t yet learned to control his impulses. Too flattered to say no, he’d seized Lori’s offer with both hands. The affair was short-lived, a handful of dates mostly at her place. Lori was the one who taught him sex was sex and love wasn’t worth considering. He’d been on his way to arriving at the conclusion anyway, but Lori cemented it.
On the limo ride back to the office, Shane jotted down a note to talk to Crickitt about Lori’s account. Maybe he should have them sit down together. He twisted his lips. Maybe not.
It was hard to conceive how he’d ever become intimately involved with a predatory woman like Lori. She’d dressed to kill today in a tight black dress, tall heels, and patterned stockings likely clipped to a pair of lacy garters. And yet, Shane found himself barely tolerating her attempt to get his attention, leaning away any time she moved to touch him. On the other hand, he hadn’t been able to get Crickitt out of his mind since the moment she’d inadvertently tugged her bottom lip with her teeth. He pictured her again, arms folded on top of her desk, curls tumbling around her face as she looked up at him. He shifted discretely, his pants suddenly tight. Geez. If the woman only knew how crazy she made him…
Yeah? And what if she knew you’d slept with a client years ago?
Bet she wouldn’t kiss him then, he thought with a derisive chuckle. If Crickitt was anything, it was genuine.
He may not have known her for very long, but there was a blatant earnestness in Crickitt he couldn’t deny. If he wanted to prove she said just what was on her mind, he need look no further than Henry Townsend. And he knew from personal experience she did what was on her mind, too. She was the one who kissed him, wasn’t she?
“Yes, she was,” he said aloud, waving off the glance Thomas threw at him from the rearview mirror.
No, Crickitt may be smack in the middle of restarting her life, but he knew enough about her to know that “arm candy to a sugar daddy” wasn’t anywhere in her agenda.
The limo came to a stop and Shane got out, waving good-bye to Thomas. As he walked into the building, his stomach clenched. On the elevator up, his heart rate increased with the floors, the handle on his briefcase slick with sweat. He felt almost…nervous. Which made no sense. How many times had he walked this same route to his office? Hundreds. Thousands.
Stepping into the waiting area, he waved hello to Keena and crested the short staircase leading to his and Crickitt’s adjacent offices. The closer he drew to her door, the more edgy he felt. Perspiration beaded his lip and he wiped it away, bemused. The last time he had a case of nerves around a woman was junior prom.
He’d tried to keep a professional distance, but trying not to notice Crickitt only made him notice her more. He’d enjoyed discovering her little tics when she didn’t know he was watching. Like whenever she moved from notebook to keyboard. She didn’t drop her pen, instead resting it between her plush lips while she typed. Or what about the way she wound the writing utensil through her curls when she talked on the phone? Last he checked ink pens weren’t erotic. But as with the clunky mailbag she carried or the square-heeled loafers she wore, Crickitt had a way of making bland look damn sexy.