“Mmm-hmm. Robert stopped by earlier today after I asked him to write one up for you to stay on with SoulM8 as its official spokesperson.” I don’t respond, can’t, as I think of how hard it would be to work with him day-in and day-out and still feel this way about him.
“Does he know that we’re not together anymore?” I ask.
Zane’s sigh fills the line and then the silence settles as I wait for him to respond. “We’ve spoken, yes.”
“Oh.” My chest constricts because that means no more need to act.
“The contract, Harlow?”
“Yes. Sure. What about it?” I ask trying to get my footing back beneath me.
“It allows you to still take other jobs while working for us and—”
“Thank you for the consideration, but I think I’ll pass.”
What are you doing? Steady work. Steady paycheck. Dream job.
But it would mean seeing him regularly. It would mean that I’d be reminded of what I can’t have, what I can’t want.
“What do you mean, you’ll pass?” His disbelieving laugh sounds exactly how I feel right now.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Zane.”
“Too bad. Our meeting is set for nine o’clock tomorrow.”
“I told you, I don’t think—you need to go through my agent.” Whew. When in doubt, always blame it on the agent.
His chuckle fills the line. “I don’t go through agents.”
“This time you’ll have to.” Anything so I don’t have to see you when all I really want to do is see you.
“You’ll show,” he says and for the briefest of seconds, I’m reminded of when he came to the house to bring the shoes. Of his offer to attend the party. Of the start of all this.
A tiny part of me latches onto this tiny sliver of something between us and wants to see if he’s giving me an opening like I think he might be.
Either that or I’ve undoubtedly gone crazy.
“No, I won’t,” I counter.
“Yes, you will.”
“Still arrogant and demanding I see.”
“Did you think I’d change?”
“Yes.” My voice is the quietest of whispers when I speak, my little nod to him that I was holding out hope.
“You’ll show, Harlow. You’ll show because of women like Molly who we met in New York.”
My fingers tighten on my cell. “You remembered her name?”
“You’ll show because it’s those women who need the hope you being the face of this company will provide.”
What about the hope I need?
“I won’t show,” I lie.
“Yes, you will.”
DON’T OVERTHINK THIS, LOW.
Step.
Don’t enter his office with high expectations.
Step.
Don’t walk over the threshold expecting him to have changed.
Step.
Don’t hold on to any hope that he’s going to talk about you and him beyond the contract.
Step.
It’s like a sucker punch when I see him. It sounds dramatic and ridiculous but when he looks up and his eyes meet mine and that slow smile spreads across his lips, my breath catches.
“Hello, Harlow.” He stands. “Please, come in.”
“Hi.” I cross the space, my spine stiff, my nerves rioting beneath the surface. My heart constricts in my chest when he places a soft kiss on my cheek in greeting before pulling my chair out for me.
I expect him to walk back around his desk to sit across from me, but instead he leans his hips against it right in front of me.
Of course.
Too far to touch and too close that I can smell his soap and cologne and remember what those cords of muscles beneath his shirt felt like beneath my palms.
“So?” he says and falls silent until my eyes meet with his.
“So.” There’s so much to say and yet this isn’t the time or place to say it. In my text I told him I could put everything between us aside so we could work together . . . and now I’m trying to and God, how I was wrong. There’s no forgetting a man like Zane Phillips. There’s no playing him down and pushing him under the rug.
“I have a contract for you.”
“Yes.” The less I say the better right now until I can gain control of my emotions rioting out of control. “May I see it?”
“I’d rather talk about it first.”
“Of course you would.”
“I think the terms of it will be to your liking. It will allow you to stay local with a steady monthly income. There will be occasional travel but nothing like before.”
“With you?” I can barely get the words out.
“What?”
“Will I have to travel with you?”
“I am the CEO of the company. Yes, some of the travel will have to be with me.”
Our eyes meet, hold, as the sexual tension ignites between us in a way I can’t even describe. My hands grip the arms of the chair instead of reaching out to touch him like I want.
My heart beats a strident staccato as I try to swallow over everything I really want to say instead of the words that come out.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Zane’s smile cocks up at one corner, and I can’t for the life of me figure why this is amusing to him.
“I don’t think it’s wise.”
“You’re going to be living with me so why wouldn’t you be able to travel with me too?”
“Because I . . . what did you just say?” I stare at him, my eyes blinking several times as if it will make me believe what I think I just heard him say.