He turned his attention to the televisions blaring overhead and commented on the game. Aiden cheered his approval, content to focus on anything but the topic at hand. Shane obliged, settling back into his chair and whooping alongside him.
Chapter 15
Henry Townsend perused the fresh artwork before him in flinty silence. Crickitt fidgeted as she waited and watched. Though she was confident the meeting wouldn’t end with Shane firing her, she didn’t have as much faith in Townsend.
The new logo was almost identical to the one she’d sketched that night in Shane’s office. The same night he’d moved to sit next to her, then brushed his shoulder against hers. The memory snapped like flashbulbs in her mind.
Fiery, amber eyes flicking to her lips.
A guttural sound escaping his perfect mouth.
The heat of his lips searing hers.
She risked a look over to Shane, who happened to look over at her at the same time. He nodded his head in reassurance, and for the first time in a good long while, she didn’t feel alone.
“No mascot,” Townsend growled.
Carrie straightened, perched on the edge of her chair like a nervous canary.
Shane and Crickitt kept quiet.
Townsend slapped the portfolio full of artwork, business plans, and ad pitches closed and slid it across the conference room table. It skidded to a halt in front of Crickitt.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
Crickitt and Shane exchanged glances. “Which part, Henry?” she asked.
His lined mouth tilted into what she guessed was supposed to be a smile. “All of it, Ms. Day. All of it.”
With that, he pressed his gnarled hands onto the table’s shining mahogany surface and pushed himself up. His cronies followed him single file out of the room. The moment the door swung shut behind them, Crickitt turned to Shane. He startled her, grabbing her up and lifting her off her feet. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You did it!” he said, giving her a squeeze and pressing her against a wall of hard male chest. He set her down, but his cologne continued tickling her nostrils. He smelled so good. Downright edible. She slid her arms from his neck, letting him go, even though every part of her anatomy protested.
“You really did it,” he said.
“We did it,” she corrected as they took an awkward step away from each other.
Shane palmed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess we did.” Then he smirked. “And you didn’t even have to make out with him.”
Crickitt flushed. “Lucky me, I guess.” She busied her hands packing the portfolio into her bag.
Shane gathered his briefcase. “Do you have plans tonight?”
She didn’t. And more than anything she hoped that Shane was asking because he wanted to make plans with her. She shouldn’t hope that at all. Not after they promised to keep things between them platonic. Not after Ronald’s confusing phone call.
“Why? Feel like treating your PA to a congratulatory dinner?” she blurted anyway.
“You’ve earned it.”
A thread of pride caused her to lift her chin. She had earned it. And more than that, she deserved to spend the evening the way she wanted. And she wanted to spend it with Shane. “Okay,” she told him. “I accept.”
Crickitt stood on the sidewalk in downtown Columbus beneath a building that resembled the space needle in Washington. She craned her head, shielding her eyes from the warm summer sun. Skyview was practically perched in the clouds, rotating too slowly to notice, giving its diners a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of downtown. “I’ve always wanted to eat here.”
Shane took his eyes from the skyscraper to look at her. “Me, too.”
He’d never been here before? And he’d brought her, which made their coming here instantly more meaningful.
Inside, the hostess sat them at a coveted window seat. Crickitt studied the Matchbox-size cars below before focusing on Shane’s reflection in the window. He was watching her, the sun highlighting the line of his jaw, his perfect lips.
“Madame?”
Crickitt turned to find their wine waiter, sommeliers she remembered they were called in five-star restaurants, a bottle of wine propped onto a white cloth over his forearm. “Château Sedacca.” He placed the bottle on the table and opened it with a manual wine service. Shane watched her through twinkling eyes, which made her remember the electric bottle opener, his fingers gliding along hers. Was he remembering that, too?
The waiter splashed the slightest bit of red into the bottom of her glass. When she only smiled up at him, he raised an eyebrow.