“I’m not suggesting this solution because I'm looking for some sort of sick and twisted vengeance. I don't like the way things went, but those memories define me, and they remind me not to be that person.
It’s also not what’s driving me to offer my help.” She locked her gaze on him, dark eyes sincere. “Unlike Kelly, my stake in this isn’t financial. I’m not going to charge you for the idea. I don’t expect you to give me a third of any of the results. I’m doing it because the two of you are talented and good together, and you got screwed. You deserve another chance…”
She trailed off, studying her fingernails. “Anyway. It doesn't matter. If you’re not interested, I’ll drop it. It’s your decision. No pent up resentment because we don’t agree. No telling people how much you suck.”
“No spending the next decade wondering what you did wrong?” He didn’t know if he was asking her if that’s what she’d done, or admitting his own regrets.
Her eyes shone when she looked at him. “I can't promise that, Zach.”
She stood.
His resolve broke. He couldn't let her walk out with their only solution they had because of spite. He couldn’t let her walk out, period. Scott was right; Zach needed to stop comparing Rae to Kelly. There were no similarities between the two women except their intelligence. Zach was guilty of every single thing he held against her.
And having her around—hanging out, swapping stories, ideas, and gropes—was amazing.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down on the bench next to him.
Her knee brushed his leg, and she stared at him, eyes wide.
This was business. The electricity between them was pleasant, but if he was going to do this—if he was going to ask for her help—it couldn’t be because he was still attracted to her. “Do you really think we can start over?” Quickly, he added, “The company?”
“I'm not certain. I have to see both your finances. I promise I don't plan on anyone living off ramen, but there would be a significant shortage of five star steakhouses in your future.”
“Do I get to keep my car?” He tried to sound light-hearted about it. The car was his pride and joy. He'd paid cash for it back before they really made it.
Rae smiled, dimples coming back. “Possibly longer than you were planning on. No promises, but if you can follow a budget both professionally and personally, I can probably make it work.”
An impulse raced through him. The last thing he needed to do was kiss her. Instead, he grabbed his drink. Condensation dribbled onto the table. He took a long swallow, ignoring the watered-down result from all the ice melting.
She ducked her head again and scooted back on the bench, putting a few inches between them.
He tried to fight the ache it summoned. “I'll make things better with Scott.” It was his fault anyway, for being a stubborn ass. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“I—umm…”
“To work through this with us. I mean, we'll pay you a standard consulting fee or something. We'll give you everything you need.” He was rambling. He snapped his mouth shut.
Something in her expression shifted. “I'm not doing it for money.”
“I didn't mean that, but this is your job. I just…” Was he really willing to beg for this? For something he wasn't even sure he wanted? Except he did want it. “Please?”
She nodded and stood again. “I've got time. I was supposed to do something with Scott, but… Things are kind of awkward right now.”
Zach wanted to brush away her sad smile, but if this was business now, he had to keep it business. “Something tells me it'll be okay. I'll pick you up at, like…eight? You're still a morning person, right?”
She smiled. “Yeah. But I can meet you there.”
He shook his head. This was one place he was confident: making the situation look right. “We show up together. That way Scott knows we're both on board.”
She looked like she wanted to protest, but instead shouldered her purse. She extended her hand. “Deal.”
He shook it, trying not to sink into the pulse that rushed through him at her touch.
Chapter Fourteen
Zach couldn’t ignore the scuff of Scott's socks on carpet. The pacing had gotten old hours ago.
Rae stretched her hands over her head, her yawn ending in a squeak. Three displays—her laptop and the two she had commandeered from Scott and Zach—cast a series of sickly glows across her thin top. “Sit down, please?” She rubbed her eyes, muffling her voice.
“That won't do you any good.” Zach propped his feet up on the coffee table. It took restraint to keep his eyes on the TV and not on her. But it was all because he was worried about the numbers she was pulling. It had nothing to do with the way her shirt curved over her tits when she stretched, or the arch of her back as she tried to work the kinks out of her neck.
Whatever had been exploding on TV stopped, and he changed the channel. A new flame-inspired concussion tore from the subwoofer, and Scott jumped.