He worked best at night when the usual hum of the office died to complete silence.
He scanned his work. The building wasn’t right. There were either too many windows or not enough. He scowled at the structure, erasing the lines around the front door, pressing the eraser hard against the sketch. He ripped the paper in his hands, tore it in shreds, and watched it crumple around his feet.
“Damn it,” he growled.
He had been working on the sketches for the museum for over a week, and nothing worked. Nothing felt right. This had been his third attempt to have something ready to present to the museum board. He had landed the job based on his reputation alone. But the contract wasn’t signed yet. The design was critical to sealing the deal.
His eyes ached almost as much as his back. He had to get out of here. He turned off the light as he closed the door behind him. Maybe he should let his bear out. Sometimes it helped to tap into his animal side. It relieved the pressure he put on himself.
It was late enough he could go for a run when he got home. He would have to be careful. He lived near a park bordered by a natural area, but that didn’t mean it was always bear friendly. If he were spotted, it could cause problems for the city.
He didn’t hear the elevator open or the click clack of high heels across the marble floor, until he looked up from his phone.
“Crawford, hi.” Mila greeted him in the reception area.
“What are you doing back here?” he asked. “Everyone else left hours ago.”
He grazed the top of her arm as he reached for the elevator button. It was accidental, but he noticed how she stiffened at the contact as if he had tapped her with an electrical shock.
His blond assistant chewed lightly on her bottom lip, slowly chafing the pink lipgloss from her mouth.
“I-I forgot something. I didn’t know you’d still be here.”
“Yeah, well I’ve been working on the museum prints.” He scratched the back of his neck.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Not really. I decided I need a break.” He paused. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be walking in the parking garage alone. I’ll wait for you.”
“No, you don’t have to do that.” She pulled something from her purse. “I carry mace. See?”
He chuckled. He tried to imagine Mila defending herself in those high heels she always wore. He had no doubt she could hold her own, but he wasn’t going to take a chance and leave her in the office alone. Especially since he had his own set of protective skills.
“I insist.” He nodded. “I’ll be right here. I’ll wait.”
She took a hesitant step back. “Oh, all right. Thanks. I promise I’ll only be a minute. I don’t want you to have to wait for me.”
“It’s fine.” He tried to smile, but every muscles in his body was stiff, even his lips. God, he needed to run.
She hurried through the lobby, looking over her shoulder at Crawford. He settled into one of the reception chairs, hoping she wouldn’t be long.
* * *
Mila
Holy shit. Mila fumbled the keys in her hand as she tried to unlock the door that led to Crawford’s design studio.
He was here. He was actually here. Holy shit.
She straightened her hair, and pressed her lips together. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Well, he had every right to be here. It was his firm. His office. His everything.
She moved files on her desk, looking for the flash drive she had left behind.
“Shit,” she whispered. She looked through the door, catching a glimpse of his back.
His massive shoulders filled the chair. His legs almost too tall for the seat, made his knees jut forward. She realized she was licking her lips when he ran a hand through his hair.
She didn’t know when he had gone this long without a haircut, but it worked. The man could try any style and she’d find him attractive.
God, he was gorgeous, mesmerizing, and sexy. Why did Crawford Highland have to be her fucking boss?
It was bad enough she had to sit on the other side of his office door all day, daydreaming of all the ways he might finally notice her, but now he was here. He was waiting for her in the lobby.
Mila pushed aside another stack of files, revealing the missing drive.
“Ah-ha!”
She held it in front of her face. It had all her files for the museum proposal. It was the reason Crawford was in the office so late. He still didn’t have a drawing to present, and she was responsible for putting the presentation together.
He had the same look in his eye all week. The one that said he was lost, looking for his next inspiration. She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he had a mockup of the museum. Crawford worked hard. He built the firm from the ground up, and she knew he wouldn’t rest until he had something worthy of the firm’s reputation.
She dropped the drive into her purse, turned off the light, and closed the door behind her.
For the past year she had worked for the city’s most prominent architect, fetching coffee, making copies, taking calls for him—doing anything he needed in the office.
When she had taken the job she wanted to get her foot in the door of company where she could gain experience. It was going to be a stepping-stone. Instead she had taken one look at the head architect and almost tripped out of her high heels.
To say she had an office crush was an understatement. She had fallen hard for him before she had finished her HR paperwork.
She rushed to the sitting area. “Ok, I got what I needed.”
He rose from the chair, his frame expanding in the process. She sucked in a breath. Crawford’s arms and chest always did things to her. Bad things. She shook her head, trying to regain some sense of balance.
It was pointless. There was no cure for the kind of crush she had.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded slowly.
Mila followed him into the elevator aware of how small the space was with Crawford next to her, filling every corner of the wood-paneled square. She could smell his masculine scent of mint and juniper cologne. And something so intoxicating she often thought being near him made her drunk.
“Plans tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Oh no, I’ve got to finish the proposal for you.” She patted her purse as if that explained everything.
“Hmm,” he grumbled. Crawford grumbled often. But she loved it. How the sound of his voice would vibrate over her ears. How she could tell what kind of mood he was in by the pitch in his voice.
“What about you?” She looked up at him. He towered over her. She saw the creases around his eyes. He looked exhausted.
“Same.”
“I know you’ll find the right design.” She hesitated.
She wanted to tell him he was the most brilliant architect in the country. That his work had inspired her when she was in design school, but she always thought her words sounded more fan girl than something a serious work colleague would say. Besides, she wasn’t on the design team. She doubted her opinion counted for much.
“Thanks.” He placed a palm over the elevator door as it opened.
The ride was too short. She wanted to stay trapped inside with him for a few more minutes. But that’s how every day was with Crawford. She wanted coffee breaks to run into lunch. She wanted budget meetings to turn into drinks after work. She wanted walks to the parking lot to turn into invitations home.
No matter how much time she spent around him, it was never going to be enough.
She stopped next to her car, digging her keys out of her purse. “Thanks for the escort.” She smiled brightly.
“Sure thing.” He turned from her. “Have a good night, Mila.”
“Good night, boss.” She slid into the driver’s seat.
She closed the door behind her, started the ignition, and watched the man she was completely in love with walk away.
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Meredith Clarke, The Write Bear (Highland Brothers 1)
The Write Bear (Highland Brothers 1) Page 8