He padded into the bedroom and clicked off the alarm on her phone, before kneeling next to the bed. “Hey, gorgeous.” He brushed the petals of the rose he’d bought across her cheek.
“That tickles.” She fluttered her eyelids but didn’t open her eyes.
The way her hair curtained over half her face enthralled him, and her curves under the sheets were intoxicating. “That’s the point,” he said softly, as he repeated the gesture.
“You better have made coffee.” She pried one eye open. He held the rose in front of her, and she opened the other eye with a gasp. “What is that?”
“It’s a flower.”
“Smartass. I love it. But why?” She pushed up onto one elbow and leaned in to smell the rose.
Liz was right, this small-gesture thing was brilliant. He’d do this more often, to see Chloe smile like this. Soft. Playful. He set the flower on the nightstand, nudged her to sit, and moved onto the bed next to her. “Just because. Do I need a reason? And no, I didn’t make coffee. I grabbed you a large latte—light on the vanilla, heavy on the espresso. It’s in the kitchen.”
“My hero.” Chloe shifted on the mattress and rested her head against his shoulder.
He trailed his fingers through her hair, memorizing the warmth of her nestled against him. “I had an amazing weekend,” he said. “And I don’t say this enough, but I’m so lucky to have you by my side.” As he understood it, times of stress tore most couples apart. It seemed to do the opposite for them, helping them move past whatever had them fighting before the mess started.
“Jordan?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you do this?” Her voice was soft, still sleepy, but something else lay underneath. “Ten years, and you’ve never bought me flowers.”
It was a reasonable thing to be curious about. So why did it shove aside the feathers of his pleasant mood? “Today’s a new day for me. A new life. Time to do something different.”
“That makes sense.” She leaned more of her weight into him, getting comfortable. “I wish I could stick around this morning and help you with your resume. It doesn’t feel right, going into the office without you.”
“But at least we enjoyed the last few days.”
“Would it have been as incredible if Liz weren’t there?”
Now he was being set up. Chloe wouldn’t do that to him, though. “That’s not a fair question. The press release was her idea, and it boosted everyone’s mood. Plus, yeah, she was fun. You liked having her here, didn’t you?”
“Of course. But take the press release out of the equation and answer the question.”
“I can’t.” He wasn’t going to spoil this moment by overreacting. “I lost my job on Friday, and I was hovering on the edge of rock bottom. You by my side over the next couple days, along with everything else, kept me from slipping.”
“Everything else.” An edge crept into her voice.
He wasn’t doing this again. It was the start of every fight they’d had over the last six months. “Stop with the leading questions. If you want to know something, ask me outright, instead of trying to manipulate me into a corner. If something’s on your mind, tell me. I’m tired of guessing. I’m tired of not talking about what’s at the heart of things.” He closed his eyes and counted to ten. There was no reason to overreact. “Pretend I’m a stupid, clueless gamer boy, and tell me what’s going on in your head.”
She sat up and scooted away, until several inches separated them. “Now’s not the time. I’m sorry. You’ve got other things to worry about. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Fuck. “Now is the time. You’re thinking about it now. You need to talk to me now.”
“Liz is my exact opposite.”
Obscure, but he could work with it. Experience told him Chloe wasn’t trying to be difficult, but he couldn’t beat around the core of whatever this was much longer, without answers. “That’s an all-or-nothing kind of statement. She’s the same height as you.”
“But that’s aesthetic. It’s on the surface.” Chloe twirled a loose thread on the comforter, wrapping it until her fingertip turned red, before letting it go.
“So this isn’t about looks. Good. Because you’re both gorgeous in your own ways.”
She looked up, expression unreadable. “True. Like puppies and salamanders are both cute, depending on your perspective.”
“Don’t drip-feed me information and then get upset when I try make sense of it.” He clenched his teeth, to hold back his rising temper. He couldn’t lose track of whatever this was about by burying it in a tangent of a disagreement.
She rubbed her face and sighed. “You’re right. I’m not being fair, and I don’t want to fight.”
They agreed on that. It was a good concession to start with. “I’m listening. Tell me what you’re thinking, but understand I might ask you to clarify.”
“That’s fair. Do you see me as one of the guys?”
“Besides the obvious physical differences?” He dragged his gaze over her, letting his appreciation show as he lingered on her waist, her chest, and then her face.
A smile threatened to poke through her scowl. “Yes. Besides the fact I’ve got tits and a vagina.”
“You’re not like anyone else in the universe.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, holding her gaze. “Not one of the guys. Not one of the girls. You’re Chloe. All yourself and you. I’m not saying your looks hurt—because, fuck, I’m lucky to have someone as stunning as you. Even without that, I’d love you as intensely. We joke—joked—at work, and I used the same language with you I did with everyone else. I also crossed a line that last day. But the only one of that you are is one of a kind.”
“That’s corny.” Despite her words, she was blushing.
“I’m not a poet. So sue me. Why are you asking?”
She leaned her cheek against his palm. “People call me dude and bro and man. People call Liz Ms. Thompson, and Elizabeth.”
“Those are her names.”
“You’re funny. I’ve seen the two of you talk. You look at her differently.”
He was getting an idea of what this all meant. He hoped. “People call you those things because they’re comfortable with you. Maybe they think you’re one of the guys, but most of them wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if they had one. They talk to her differently because she’s intimidating.”
“She’s not.” Chloe chuckled.
“She is. Do you think she’s ever done something like dye her own hair in the bathroom sink?”
“Probably not.”
“Yes, she’s attractive.” Jordan pressed a kiss to Chloe’s lips when she clenched her jaw. “There’s never been a time in our relationship when we didn’t check out other people. As far as looking at her differently is concerned… First of all, I probably do. Second, you’re biased, because you can’t see you through my eyes.”
“Maybe you are a poet.” The corners of her mouth tugged up.
He kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips again, feather light each time. “When I close my eyes, I can describe you in vivid detail, because you’re always in the front of my mind. Would we be better if I said let’s never see Liz again? I’m not taking anything else off the table—exploration, or whatever we’re comfortable with. But if we need to redefine something, let’s figure out how.”
“Would you really be okay with never seeing her again?”
Sure. Never miss her. The words stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t figure out why. “Is this one of those questions I need more information to answer?”
“No.”
“I like her. You like her. I don’t only mean in a let’s-get-nasty way, though you enjoyed it. At the end of the night, I’m here with you.”
Chloe crawled forward and pressed her lips to his, holding the kiss for several seconds before breaking away to look him in the eye. “Thank you for talking this through with me. Will we be okay?”
“Always and forever.” He hoped he
understood the problem now. A little misplaced jealousy and uncertainty. A breakdown in communication. They could push through the bumps in the future.
* * * *
Chloe left her latest meeting, making sure she had notes about everything she needed to remember before she shifted gears for the next one. Was it really already Thursday? Three and a half days of covering for her team and Jordan’s devoured her sense of time and space.
She and Jordan had collaborated on a lot of their projects. That helped. There was so much she wasn’t familiar with, though. She couldn’t offer more than stick figure drawings, to give his—her—artists concept ideas, and she didn’t have time for both their meetings if she wanted to get work done.
Her phone buzzed with a new text from her assistant. The woman was heaven sent, keeping Chloe on track schedule-wise as the day progressed. This reminder was enough to lift Chloe’s mood a few inches. Vendor follow-up. R&T Advertising. She’s in the lobby.
Chloe took the elevator down, trying to ignore the skip of her pulse. When she stepped into the waiting area and saw Liz, she couldn’t help her smile.
Liz met her halfway, and they exchanged a handshake This was an upside to being over the art team. Chloe didn’t expect Liz would need to visit often, but it was a nice shift in the day. “You didn’t have to dress up, just to visit me.” Chloe nodded at Liz’s pants suit. Chloe wore tattered jeans and a faded T-shirt.
“It’s habit. When I walk into a public facing meeting, training tells me the suit makes a good impression.”
You’ve done that either way. Chloe would have spoken the words, but her stomach growled loud enough to be heard. Liz raised her brows, and heat flooded Chloe’s cheeks. Maybe she shouldn’t have skipped lunch. Or breakfast.
“We can make this a lunch meeting.” Liz nodded toward the cafeteria off the main entrance.
“No. I’ll grab something from the vending machine after I’m done here and before the next circus.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Liz walked toward the smell of grease and cheese, glancing over her shoulder as she talked. “I’m the client, you’ve got this hour on your calendar for me, and I say we’re eating.”
Chloe couldn’t argue with that if she wanted to. Her stomach growled again, and she sprinted to catch up to Liz. “You’re the client,” Chloe said with a laugh when she closed the distance between them.
“So what’s good?” Liz paused inside the entrance.
The company cafeteria was made up of several stations, including those for pizza, burgers, sandwiches, and Tex-Mex. “They make a killer quesadilla,” Chloe said.
“I’m in.” Liz tugged her toward one of the grills. Neither said much, as they waited for their food, paid, and found seats.
It was after two, so there were plenty of options. Chloe was grateful for the relative silence. It was the least chatter she’d heard all day. “Work first?”
“I suppose. Otherwise we’ll run out of time before we get to it.” Liz pulled a manila folder from her briefcase and handed it over. They spent the next several minutes swapping details and agreeing both companies were on board for the partnership.
Chloe wished all her meetings went so smoothly. “I’ll have Legal email you our boilerplate usage terms. Look them over, come back to us with any changes.”
“Will do.” Liz pushed aside her empty plate and leaned in. “Now, the important question. How are you doing, besides forgetting to eat?”
“Work is hectic. But Jordan’s doing okay with his job search. Thanks to your apology, several development companies sought him out, and he has a list to consider. Dinner last night with my family went okay—”
“Which is good to hear.” Liz covered her hand. “But I’m asking about you. This can’t be easy on you.”
The concern warmed Chloe. “I’m good. Stressed, but surviving.” It was harder to talk about herself than she thought. She wasn’t the one out of work. “Before I forget, Jordan can’t make it this weekend. He’s interviewing with a company in California, Friday, and he’s looking at a couple other places while he’s there.”
“Would the two of you have to move? What about your job?” Liz frowned.
Chloe didn’t like the assumption she’d be the one to give up her career. Maybe she should have explained better. “He’d telecommute. They’d bring him out there once or twice a month, for face-to-face meetings.”
“Wish him luck for me.” Liz’s smile returned but no longer reached her eyes. “Maybe we should reschedule?”
“You and I can still do something. My boyfriend is gone for the weekend.”
Liz wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It was only dinner. Let’s save it until he gets back.”
“Sure. We’ll do it in two weeks instead.” Chloe wanted to ask what was making Liz squirm, but she wasn’t sure she was reading the body language right. She’d struggled to open up to Jordan—putting words to thoughts that didn’t make sense to her—and they knew each other. She couldn’t explain to Liz why the conversation bothered her.
Liz glanced at her phone and stood. “I’ll see you both then. For now, I should let you get back to work. I’ll follow up with you in a few days, with any questions we have about the contract.”
“Sounds fantastic.” Chloe’s fake enthusiasm echoed in her eardrums, loud and brassy. She hated the feelings crawling through her. The jealousy she shouldn’t feel. The unreasonable doubt. But acknowledging the wrongness didn’t lessen the creeping blah.
Chapter Fourteen
When Liz told Chloe last Thursday that she wanted to delay their plans, Liz expected to move past the shifted date as if it were another bump in the calendar. Seeing Chloe’s confusion at the news almost made Liz say, Never mind. Let’s hook up anyway.
She couldn’t let herself say the words, though. It wasn’t something Liz wanted to explain. Lunch with just Chloe was difficult enough. Being alone with either Chloe or Jordan outside a professional environment wasn’t an option. Liz needed the in-her-face reminder the two were a couple. Separate, each was a temptation, and simply considering that filled her with guilt. She didn’t think either of them would struggle with it, but only seeing them together was the best way to remind Liz they were off limits.
As Saturday crept up and then passed, her resolve didn’t stop her from trying her damnedest not to think about not seeing them—and failing. Liz had never dreaded Mondays, but this morning, leaving the weekend behind filled her with melancholy.
Might as well see if she could get some work done. She flipped on her laptop and let the weekend email spill in. She deleted a message from Stew Knapfer, asking for ten minutes of her time, along with half-a-dozen spam letters offering her everything from enterprise-level data to top-tier human resource management.
A note from Jonathan sat near the top. Call me when you get in.
She frowned at the terse subject line with no message in the body, grabbed her phone, and then dialed.
It only managed half a ring before Jonathan answered. “Liz. Gotta love early risers.” He didn’t sound upset.
“I’m all about the customer service. You can always call me if there’s an emergency, rather than waiting for me to get into the office.”
“No emergency.” His upbeat tone lifted her mood a notch. “I wanted to get to you before your calendar filled for the week, but nothing’s on fire. How was your weekend?”
A little pathetic and a lot lonely. “Fantastic. Yours?”
“Busy, but worth it. Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short. I’d keep you company for hours if I could, but I’ve got a meeting in five. I’m going to be in your neck of the woods tomorrow—last minute plans—and I wondered if you’d grab lunch with me.”
She did a quick check of her calendar. “It’ll have to be at one, but if that’s okay, sure. Do you want to stop by the office at all while you’re here? Check in with Mercy or anyone else?”
“Nah. Thanks, though. My business there isn’t related, but I have to say hi to my favorite ac
count manager.”
“Of course.” Liz kept the cheer in her reply, despite the nudge at the back of her mind that she needed to examine this conversation closer. “Send me the details, and I’ll meet you there.”
“I look forward to it. Talk soon.”
Liz stared at her phone for a few seconds after he disconnected, trying to grasp the conversation and figure out why it struck her as bizarre. Probably because her mind was still half-focused on the weekend’s missed opportunity. She’d never get anything done if she dwelled on that. She stashed regret high on a shelf and turned to the rest of her email.
* * * *
“The first hotel had lost my reservation and was booked solid. They were kind about it, though and called other nearby locations. It was late, and I was tired.” Liz was telling Jonathan about the last vacation she took to Italy. “So when they told me they had a place but their only available room had a broken TV, I told the hotel I didn’t care, and they sent a car for me.”
“That’s miserable. At least you got some sleep finally.” Jonathan brushed his hand over hers.
“You’d think that.” His friendly gesture clicked off in her head, added to a list of other snippets of odd behavior through lunch. It mingled with yesterday’s call and meeting up with him in L.A., but it still didn’t make sense. “But no. It was an older building. Radiators. Locks that needed keys, instead of being electronic. I swear the lock was about a century old, and it took me about five minutes to jiggle it enough the tumblers let me lock it. Then I pretty much collapsed into bed. I slept for maybe an hour, before I heard scraping and stumbling, and someone joined me in bed next to me. She stunk of alcohol and was out cold the moment she lay down. Apparently I hadn’t locked the door after all, and she was so wasted, she mixed up her room number.”
He laughed and shook his head. “She got your company for the evening. Lucky woman.”
“I never thought of it that way, but I guess so.” The gears in her mind clicked into place, and Liz suddenly saw the whole picture. He was hitting on her. Mercy and Ian both described him as friendly, but nothing like this ever came up. And Liz had seen him with his colleagues. He didn’t hold himself this way with any of them. Crap. What was she supposed to do? She tried to be subtle about looking him over. He was attractive—blond hair, stunning eyes, and a toned build hidden under an expensive suit. But even if he weren’t a client, she couldn’t picture being with him.
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