We’d barely started the descent when he pushed away from the bar and came over to where I was standing by the control panel. He wore a business suit, and the way he moved exuded power and confidence, and even though I just wanted to escape I couldn’t deny that my knees felt a little wobbly and my pulse had started skittering.
He leaned in, and an electric jolt shot through me, sparked by his proximity. I clenched my jaw, angry with my body for reacting to this man when I was mentally giving him the finger.
I thought he was going to touch me, but instead he reached over my shoulder and pushed the button to stop the elevator.
We jerked to a halt, and I stumbled, thrusting my hand out to steady myself. My palm landed flat on his chest, and the shock of our contact ricocheted through me. I jerked my hand back, but it was too late. I’d felt it. That awareness. That need. That zing. Oh, dear god, I was in so much trouble.
I forced myself to stand up straight. “What the hell do you think—”
He silenced me with a finger to my lips and a shake of his head. He took a step toward me, and I swear I heard Klaxons. He was so close we were practically touching, and the air between us was hot and thick. My hands were behind me on the handrail, and I gripped it tighter, afraid that if I let go I would reach out and touch him again. That I’d close this distance and demand that he kiss me. That he finish what we’d started.
For one brief, shining, magical moment, I thought that was what he had in mind. His head dipped toward mine, his lips coming close to my ear. “Why?” he said. “Why the hell did Jahn leave it to you?”
“What?” I jerked back, embarrassed and confused. And, at the same time, I realized that he hadn’t leaned close to me to flirt, but to be heard. The Klaxons were real—he’d triggered the alarm when he’d stopped the elevator.
A tinny voice suddenly filled the car. “Sir? Ma’am? What’s the problem?”
Evan tilted his head up toward the ceiling vent where, presumably, a security camera was recording our little drama. “Turn off the damn alarm,” he said.
“I need to know if there’s a problem. Ma’am, is this man threatening you?”
I realized what it must look like from the security guard’s perspective. “No,” I said. “I’m okay.”
For a moment, there was just the sound of the alarm. Then the guard’s voice came back on, tight and authoritative. “Sir, you need to put the elevator in motion.”
“In a damn minute,” Evan said. “Turn off the fucking alarm.”
“Sir—” But Evan just reached over and flipped the switch that controlled the intercom.
A moment later, the alarm quit howling. Then the elevator started moving again, and I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or amused.
I settled on amused. “Guess they have an override button,” I said, unable to help my grin.
“Fuck it,” Evan said, and although I couldn’t be certain, I thought he was biting back a grin, too.
The display showed that we were passing the thirty-second floor. Evan reached over and pressed the button for thirty. A moment later, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. I didn’t have a clue what he was doing, at least not until he took my arm and tugged me out of the car with him.
The elevator bank was empty, bordered on the left by the glass doors of a law firm and on the right by solid wooden doors with tiny gold letters. Presumably a small business. Neither place looked busy today.
“We’re going to talk,” Evan said. “Without building security listening in, and without sound effects.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I figured that out on my own.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So talk.”
“I want to know why he left it to you.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. I saw your face.”
Since I couldn’t argue with that, I shifted course. “Why do you care, anyway?”
“I have my reasons.”