Her phone vibrated from inside the desk drawer. She slid the drawer open and pulled it out. Five text messages. Three from Heather fishing for gossip; one from her grandmother’s insurance agent, Mr. Sinclair, saying the life insurance money transfer to her brokerage account should take place before close of business today, but wouldn’t be accessible for several days; and one from a phone number she didn’t recognize, obviously Will. It was a calendar alert that read, “Reminder: Dinner with Claire—5:15 p.m.”
So, Will hadn’t gotten cold feet—which made her whole body flush hot. She giggled and repressed the urge to break out some wicked dance moves right there in her office. She shot a response to Mr. Sinclair and shut down her computer. Then she called Heather.
She dreaded this phone call. She loved Heather, but she was the biggest snoop and matchmaker ever. It had never bothered Claire before because it had never affected her. Her life as nurse for the dying had been less than interesting. Now, evidently, she was top of Heather’s vicarious living list based on the number of phone calls she received from her—at least one an hour.
She spun her chair to face the window and rolled her eyes as the phone rang for the third time.
“Well?” Heather answered. Not even a hello.
Staring longingly at the scrap of blue sky visible over the building across the street, Claire pulled a pencil out of the cup on the table under the window. “Hey, Heather.”
“What happened today?”
“Well, I got to the office about eight.” She rolled the pencil from one hand to the other across the slick table surface, knowing that wasn’t what Heather was fishing for.
“And?”
In her mind, she could picture Heather pacing her office like she did when she was excited. “And I edited the remainder of the estate jewelry auction brochure. Then, I had lunch.”
“Did he”—she cleared her throat—“talk to you?”
She stopped the pencil mid-roll. “Not today.” But last night he’d done amazing things she wouldn’t tell Heather about over the phone—like the mind-bending make-out session up against her door. “He’s not even here.”
“Oh…” Heather didn’t even try to mask the disappointment in her voice.
She flicked the pencil, setting it back into motion again, catching it right before it rolled off the end of the desk, then pushing it back the other direction. “I did hear from Mr. Sinclair, though. The money should be in my account any second now and will be available in a few days.”
“Cool! You’ll be rich,” Heather said.
The thought of having that much money made Claire’s head spin when she really thought about it. It was a bit terrifying, actually. “Yes. I’ll be rich. And free to get the hell out of New York.”
“Woo! You’re out of here—which, by the way, makes me as sad as it does happy for you. I wish you weren’t dead-set on that internship with Dr. Jolly.”
Claire didn’t even bother correcting her. She’d called Dr. Jahi that since they took his class together years ago.
“Can’t you get an internship closer to home—to me? I’m gonna miss you, girl.” There was a moment of silence from Heather, which wasn’t typical. “Well, okay.” Her voice cracked a bit. “So, I bet you’re ready to party! Let’s do it.”
“I’ll be ready to party once the money hits my bank account. Until then, I’ll keep working here until my passport comes in, and start boxing up my things at home.”
“There are companies for that, you know. You don’t have to always do everything yourself.”
Claire dropped the pencil back into the cup. “Yeah, but I don’t like people snooping.” A sound came from behind her. She spun in her chair to discover Will in her doorway and her heart sped up at the sight of him. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Is he there?” Heather asked.
Heck, yeah, he was there; all hot man in blue jeans and a button-down shirt leaning against her doorframe like something out of a really great dream. “Bye, Heather.”
“Oh my God. He’s there. Is he in your office?”
She hit “end” and dropped the phone in her purse as she met Will’s eyes. “Hey.”
He looked as if he were studying her, rather than greeting her. His slightly narrowed eyes focused on her with such intensity, she held her breath. “Hey, yourself,” he finally answered.
Well, this was awkward. It was as if he were waiting for her to say or do something. “Um, so, we’re still on?”
“Is there a reason we shouldn’t be?”
Something was wrong. He was probably having second thoughts now that he was here.
“None that I can think of.” She smiled, but he didn’t smile back. Crap.
…