Shane’s eyes went to the clock. Six already?
“Wait!” He thrust out of his chair and walked over to her, trying to come up with a valid reason for what he was about to ask. “Are you available this evening?”
She stopped in front of his office, eyes widening as her hand went to her chest. “I’m sorry?” she asked, trying to act natural while clutching the front of her shirt for dear life.
He pretended not to notice, it was the least he could do, but the relentless vision of her cleavage snapped into his memory all the same. Sexual harassment suit, here we come.
“I didn’t have a chance to go over Lori LaRouche’s account with you earlier.” He palmed his neck in embarrassment. First eavesdropping, then looking down her shirt. What was he, fifteen?
“Oh.” Crickitt’s forehead bunched as she looked over at her darkened office. “I didn’t expect to work late. I sort of made plans.”
With whom? Her ex? He clenched his jaw at the idea of her with that bozo.
“I guess I can reschedule,” she said, reaching for her phone.
“No, don’t.” Shane pushed her phone aside. He’d asked her to stay under the guise of work when what he really wanted was to be near her a little longer. Even for a useless fifteen-minute meeting. It was selfish. Dangerous. Like picking a fight with Temptation and betting on himself to lose.
“No need to change your plans,” he said, sorry the second he said it. He tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to look nonchalant.
“If you’re sure?” She held up her phone again. “It’s just drinks with a friend.”
A male friend? Worry ate at him as he considered that upsetting possibility.
“Thank you. I’m sure.” But he wasn’t sure. About anything. He shooed her off anyway. “Go. Enjoy.”
Sending him a tentative wave, she headed into the empty reception area. If not for the guard on the door after five p.m., he would have walked her down. But the afternoon had sent his normally reined emotions all over the place as it was. It was probably better he stayed put.
He stood over his desk and blew out a long-suffering sigh. Where he would normally dig in with renewed vigor once the building was quiet, tonight he found himself distinctly unmotivated.
Making a snap decision, he picked up the desk phone and speed dialed a number. His cousin answered on the third ring.
“Wanna grab a beer?” Shane asked.
“Who is this?” Aiden asked. Then a smile in his voice added, “Name the place.”
* * *
Crickitt picked the greasy wings-and-fries joint near her apartment instead of a wine bar or equally stuffy atmosphere. She’d been spoiled lately with catered lunches, breakfast quiche from the high-end cafeteria, and caramel soy milk lattes from an in-house espresso machine. Crickitt worried she was losing touch with her less-refined self, who indulged in flat beer and gnawed chicken directly from the bone.
“I almost didn’t make it tonight,” Crickitt said to Sadie after they decided what to order. “Shane asked me to stay late. No wonder he’s a billionaire. He’s a complete workaholic.”
There it was, her attempt to segue into, By the way, I jumped him the other night, and this morning he caught me staring at his second in command.
But Sadie didn’t bite. “What happened to your shirt?”
Crickitt looked down where a not so strategically placed paperclip held her shirt closed. “I lost a button.” Thankfully, she had discovered the button missing before the Team Townsend meeting this afternoon. To think how close she’d come to flashing her boss. She so did not need the added pressure. As it was, her attraction for him was teetering on a thumbtack’s edge. Thankfully, Shane’s killer headache kept his eyes tightly shut. She didn’t need him thinking she was a shameless hussy on top of everything else.
“Last week, we went to Columbus for an account, then back to his home office to work until midnight,” Crickitt said, attempting to steer the conversation back to her brewing confession.
Sadie sighed.
Crickitt slouched in the uncomfortable wooden booth. “I give. What’s wrong?”
Sadie met her eyes, and Crickitt felt the force of her anguished expression all the way down to her trouser socks. Her best friend looked like she might burst into tears in the middle of Wings n’ Things.
“Aiden saw her the other day,” Sadie said, her voice barely audible over the bar hubbub.
“Who?”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Who do you think?”
Like her, Crickitt knew Aiden was recently divorced. “His ex?”