“That’s none of your business,” she says.
“You don’t have plans, but I’ll take a rain check anyway.” I stand up and straighten the cuffs of my sleeves. “I have a lot of work to do, so I’ll chat with you later.”
I don’t really want to walk away, but I know it’s the right move. She and I are in the midst of a fencing bout, and although she scored a few points on me, I think I’m in the lead.
Barely.
I need to take a breather before we go in for another round.
7: Selene
Instead of pushing myself to make a decision about Aidan, I postpone our date.
Is it the adult thing to do? Hardly. But the fact that I’m agonizing over it is telling me something. If it felt like the right thing to do, I wouldn’t hesitate. It’s not like I jump into bed with every man who buys me dinner, but I’ve never been shy about sex. I love sex. I love good, hard, passionate sex. But a man I sleep with is always a man I really, really want to sleep with. By the time we hit the sheets, I’m aching to see what he can do to me.
With Aidan, there’s no ache.
So I tell him I can’t make it on Friday, and spend the evening alone. I pick up dinner on my way home from work, and don’t answer the text I get from my brother until it’s too late for me to go out. A boring Friday night is my penance for lying to Aidan.
Working with Ronan remains … awkward. At least, it’s awkward for me, although I try to hide behind a mask of professionalism. He seems completely at ease, even when he’s looking at me like he’s imagining me naked—which the asshole probably is. Every time we’re in the same room together, he finds a way to make a comment that leaves me on edge. And he clearly doesn’t care who hears him. Nothing he says is genuinely inappropriate, but he’s obviously flirting with me. I’m sure everyone else can tell.
And when he catches me alone, he holds nothing back. I try to make sure that happens as little as possible.
But I can’t avoid him. There’s been a constant stream of meetings to get Ronan up to speed. I do have to admit that it’s refreshing to work for someone who wants to be involved. Brad would rant about the state of the company, dump a huge set of projects on everyone, and then take off. Ronan is in many ways Brad’s opposite. In meetings, he listens more than he talks, sitting back in his seat, his eyes intense. He has a way of making people feel at ease, even though we’re all still getting to know him and everyone is nervous about their jobs. So far he seems content to let us continue to do our jobs while he eases himself into his new role.
I’m surprised. And maybe a tiny bit impressed.
Thursday morning, I get an email from Ronan. Team meeting. Noon. Capital Grill. Lunch is on me.
I’ve been putting in a lot of hours lately, and lunch out actually sounds like a nice change—even if it is a working lunch. I send a quick reply. Thanks. See you then.
It’s a short walk to the restaurant, so I grab my purse at about ten to noon and head down the elevator. I don’t see anyone else from the office going in the same direction, so I check my email again from my phone, worried I got the time wrong. I hope I’m not late. But his message says noon. Maybe I’m the only one who will be on time.
I walk into the restaurant and find Ronan waiting up front.
He pockets his phone and smiles. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure,” I say.
The hostess grabs two menus. “Your table is right this way.”
She leads us to a small table near the back. I glance around, looking for a larger one. Ronan sits and the hostess gives me an expectant look, so I take the seat across from him. She hands us our menus and walks away.
“I thought we were having a team lunch,” I say. “This is a table for two.”
“There are some things I need to go over with you,” Ronan says.
“Just me?” I ask.
“Just you.”
“Ronan—”
“It’s work-related,” he says.
I put the cloth napkin in my lap and pick up the menu. The waiter comes by and I order a grilled chicken Caesar. Ronan orders the salmon.
“You can get more than a salad,” Ronan says after the waiter leaves. “I won’t even expect you to put out.”
“God, Ronan, you’re an HR nightmare.”
His mouth turns up in a grin. It’s downright predatory.
I really need to get some control over this situation.
“Okay.” I fold my hands and put them on the table. “I’m actually glad you pulled this supposed team meeting on me. If we are going to make this work, we need to set some ground rules.”
“For what?” he asks.
“For working together.”
He looks so relaxed, leaning back in his seat, with one wrist resting on the table. “What sort of ground rules?”
“For starters, I am not going to date you,” I say.
“Define dating.”
“You’re really going to be difficult, aren’t you?” I ask.
He just smiles.
“Dating means … going out as a couple, just the two of us,” I say.