I let out a sigh, relaxing my shoulders as I did. “Are you confident your team will come up with something?”
Nate stroked his hand across his closely shaved beard. “A year ago we wouldn’t have even had a shot at Phoenix. An opportunity like this doesn’t come every day, and I’m going to make sure we make the most of it. That’s the best we can do.” He turned toward me. “But if we don’t get it, we don’t get it. It’s not because I don’t have a good team. Advertising is catching the right wave at the right time. Sometimes you crest high, sometimes you wipe out.”
I tilted my head and looked at him in the dim light. “Nathan Sinclair, are you a secret surfer?”
Nate was ten years older than Donovan, who already had five years on me, and except for a vague bio on the company website, I didn’t know much about the man. He seemed to like it that way. Every time I’d tried to ask him about himself, he’d evaded my questions. Either he was a serious introvert or a man with a fascinating past.
I was betting on the latter.
Tonight he had his jacket off and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows revealing tattoos extending down both of his forearms. I’d seen him riding a Harley once after work. I could totally picture him hanging ten.
But he only laughed. “Just trying to bond with the California girl.”
“In the years I lived there, I don’t think I ever became a California girl. I maybe went to the beach a handful of times.” I wasn’t even sure I’d ever gotten a tan.
“Workaholic.”
I squinted at the clock. “Says the president still at the office at nine thirty-seven p.m.”
“It’s only the second time this week I’ve been here past eight.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
There was a knock on the doorframe since the door was already open. We turned toward the sound. One of the guys from Creative was standing there.
“Hey, Nate, what do you think about the ‘American Idea’? That notion was used a lot in the last election year. Maybe we could try to leverage it as a unifying patriotic—”
Nate cut him off. “Can’t use it. The ‘American Idea’ was trademarked by Donald Trump.” He thought for a moment. “But I like the scope. Let’s keep thinking along those lines. I’ll come brainstorm with you.” The two of them left together.
“Send someone to get me when you have something,” I called after them. “I’ll be here or upstairs in my office.” Then I turned again to my boards. If the scope of the campaign were bigger, would we need to adjust our strategy to fit that?
The idea of making changes made me tired—or more tired—but I was determined. I walked backwards, trying to see the entirety of the plan better, until my thighs hit the back of the worktable.
“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself, hopping on the table. I was already here late. Might as well get comfortable. I kicked off my shoes while I was at it and brought one nyloned foot up to my knee to massage while I looked over the boards and brainstormed.
For the next several minutes, I was lost in my head, but not so lost that I didn’t notice when the air in the room changed. It felt warmer. Like the heater had just kicked in.
Someone walked in and stood beside the table.
I inhaled slowly. I didn’t want to turn my head, didn’t want to look in his direction, because I knew exactly who it was, and in this moment, he was next to me, and while I was pretending I didn’t know, I didn’t have to pretend I didn’t care.
But then he held out a Styrofoam cup of coffee in my direction, and I had to look at it.
“You’re working late,” Donovan said when I acknowledged him.
Beyond seeing him in meetings and passing him in the hallway, I hadn’t really talked to him in the month since the night he’d taken me to Gaston’s. We’d left things unsettled, and that gnawed at me when I let it, but when I didn’t, our working relationship was fine. He didn’t bother me. I didn’t bother him. He’d done as I’d asked—he’d left me alone.
That was what I had wanted, I reminded myself often. It was for the best.
And yet I couldn’t deny that his nearness now felt like a glimpse of sun after a long winter cold.
I took the coffee, wondering if it was an olive branch of sorts. “I want to make sure the plan we have outlined fits the new creative campaign when it comes through.”
After taking a sip of the brew, I set the cup down at my side, trying to ignore the way my stomach flip-flopped when Donovan looked at my work.
It wasn’t any better when he looked back at me. “You have a qualified team for that. You don’t trust them?”
“I trust them just fine.” Honestly, I did. But this was my first big deal. It would have my name all over it. I wanted to make sure every t was crossed. Every i was dotted.
It wasn’t something I wanted to explain to anyone. Especially to him.
“Let me give you some advice,” he said, pulling a chair out from the table.
“How about you don’t.” I was both intrigued and intimidated by his actions. It wasn’t like him to be on this floor. “Why are you even down here?”
Facing the chair toward me, he sat in it. “To bother you. No other reason.” He held his hand out, palm up. “Give me your foot.”
I glanced down at the foot in my lap that I was still half-heartedly rubbing. Was he offering to…? “No!”
He side-eyed me. “Come on, Sabrina. You look exhausted. I owe you a foot rub, at least.” When I still hesitated, he added, “Completely innocent. I promise. We aren’t the only people here. What could I possibly do to you?”
What could he do to me? What a loaded question. He could torture me completely in front of a crowd of people, and no one would ever know. He tortured me completely all the time without even being in the same room with me, and he didn’t know it.
But he’d been right with what he said at Gaston’s—asking him to stop hadn’t stopped my reactions. In the month that had passed, he’d kept his distance, but I’d still thought about him. And the second he stepped into my presence, I lit up in awareness.
So what did it matter if I let him give me a foot rub? It could be a truce. Make our working relationship better, at least.
Reluctantly, I gave him my foot.
He began rubbing the sole through the black nylon thigh high. He wasn’t soft, using his thumb to dig deep into my muscle, but he seemed to know right where to massage and how much pressure I needed to release the tension, not only in my foot, but even in my shoulders and my back.
“You’re good at this.” I couldn’t stop watching him. Couldn’t stop watching his face, how serious he was. How focused.
“I know.” His fingers moved to my ankle, and my entire leg started to tingle, like I’d been lying on it for too long and it had gone to sleep.
I wanted to pull away. But I couldn’t.
He glanced up at me and grinned, as though he could sense my inner struggle and enjoyed it. “Now, my advice.”
“I knew there was a catch.” I huffed, putting on a show, though mostly it was to cover how shaky my breathing was at the moment.
“Of course there was a catch. Stop fighting this.” It was both an order and an appeal, and something about that made me actually pause and listen and wonder if he were talking about more than listening to him spout wisdom.
“Say what you want to say,” I said after a beat. It was probably a bad idea to hear him out. I couldn’t think of many worse.
He kneaded his fingers up higher into the flesh of my calf. “You already have the job.”
“I’m not afraid of losing my job.” Okay, I was somewhat afraid of losing my job.
“You feel like you have to prove yourself.”
I pursed my lips. “Maybe I wouldn’t feel that way if one of my superiors didn’t take every opportunity to discredit me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nate likes you fine, and we both know Weston is more concerned with what’s under your skirt than
what’s inside your head.” But he was smiling. He knew I was talking about him.
“You’re an incredible asshole.” I smiled back. Begrudgingly.
Donovan let go of my leg. “Now, Weston isn’t going to fire you, but if you want something permanent with him, you do have some work to do.”
I perked to attention. “What do you mean?”
“Weston will lose interest.”
Oh. For a second, I’d thought he’d been talking about my career. I’d forgotten the stupid thing I’d told Donovan about pursuing Weston when his marriage was over.
I started to say something in protest about Weston, but then Donovan reached for my other foot and began to repeat his massage, and my focus was captured once again.
“He’s going to stay interested in you longer than usual, I predict,” Donovan continued while I swallowed back a groan, “simply because it’s forbidden right now. That’s intriguing to him.”
He found a particularly sensitive spot, and he pressed his thumb in deeper.
I bit my lip.
“But after the wedding ring comes off, he’s going to get bored and that’s a fact. It’s his M.O. So don’t bother shedding tears about it. It’s nothing to do with you.”
Donovan paused massaging and speaking, waiting to make sure I understood.
What I understood was how good his hands felt on me, but hurriedly I mentally replayed everything he’d just said, putting his words into context.
I ran two fingers across my forehead. “Let me see if I get this. ‘Go after Weston; you’d be good for him, but don’t be bummed when he gets tired of you; that’s just his thing.’ Correct me if I’m wrong, but that almost sounds like you’re reversing your endorsement for our coupling.”
If Donovan were actually trying to keep me from being with Weston…well, that would have implications. Implications that I wasn’t sure what to do with. Though I liked the way they felt to think about, even as tentative as they were.
“Not at all. I’m doubling down on the endorsement not only by giving you this warning but also by telling you what you should do to make sure he doesn’t get tired of you.”
“You’re going to tell me how to keep Weston interested.” The disappointment in my voice sounded a lot like incredulity. Maybe it was both.
“I am. You have to recognize that the problem lies with Weston. He’s a seemingly open book, but the reason he hasn’t had a serious relationship with anyone is because he’s never let a woman get past the persona he puts up to see his true self.” Donovan’s hands moved up to my ankle, burning my skin through my stockings.
How was it possible that he could both brand me and give me away all at once? It wasn’t the first time. How was I not used to it?
I wrapped my hands along the edge of the table, needing the support.
“If you want to find a place in his heart, you have to get there first.”
“Easy enough,” I said sarcastically. Maybe Donovan’s guidance was meant to be generous, but it tasted sour. It wasn’t the advice I wanted.
“I can’t tell you how to do it exactly. You’re going to have to work that out yourself. But I figure you should know something about hiding, since you do it so well.”
I tried to pull my foot away, but his grip tightened.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I lied.
“Oh, Sabrina,” he chided. His conceit irritated me. Why did it arouse me as well?
“While we’re on the subject”—his hands moved slowly up my leg—“you aren’t going to be true to yourself when you’re with him. You know that, already. You’ll have to accept it.”
I shook my head. He couldn’t really be saying what I thought he was saying.
“Don’t shake your head at me. You know what I’m talking about. He’s not going to be able to fulfill you sexually.”
“You know I’ve slept with him.”
“Thank you for the painful reminder. I’m sure you’ll tell me he made you come, too. But you and I both know there’s more to sexual fulfillment than just having an orgasm, so unless you can tell me that he can make you sleep through the night, then let’s not talk about what Weston does for you in the bedroom.”
My breathing was so shallow now, my arms covered in goose bumps. How could he know that about me? That I had trouble sleeping? That it was only my dirty fantasies that helped me rest through the night?
He couldn’t know that, that’s how. It was coincidence.
And I was taking all of this too seriously.
I let out a long breath and allowed him a smile. “This is the most fascinatingly bizarre conversation I’ve ever imagined having with you.”
Donovan’s caress changed as I relaxed. It was lighter now, long strokes up the length of my calf and to my knee. I shivered.
“Have you imagined many?”
My smile faded. I’d given myself away. Yes. I’d imagined so many conversations with him over the years, but there was no way I could tell him the things we’d talked about in my head.
“I have,” he said, his voice thick.
The air suddenly felt heavier, like it was harder to breathe it in, and it didn’t matter anymore that he was an asshole or that he was giving me advice about Weston because he’d imagined us too.
“What do we say to each other?” I asked tentatively, afraid to break the honesty.
“We say a lot of things.” He placed a hand on my opposite calf and stood up, his fingers trailing up my legs as he rose. “Sometimes we say nothing at all.”
He was standing in front of me now. My legs nudged open wider, instinctively. Automatically he moved closer, filling the gap and pressing right up against the table.
I hated how much I wanted him to kiss me.
“Why do you do this to me?” I whispered.
His lips hovered above mine. Dancing. Teasing. “Do what?”
“Trap me like this.”
“It makes me feel like I have you.”
I ached at my core. “I don’t want you to feel like you have me.”
“Are you sure of that?”
I wasn’t, and the joke was we both knew it. Every reason I had for staying away from him was valid, but if he kissed me now, I wouldn’t be able to stop. If he kissed me now...
I tilted my chin up.
“Whoops! Sorry to interrupt.” One of my team leaders stood at the door, his hands covering his eyes.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
There wasn’t a rule about dating across departments, but this wasn’t the reputation I wanted.
I pushed Donovan away and jumped down. “It’s fine, Tom. What’s up?”
Tom lowered his hand, seemingly relieved that he wasn’t in trouble for what he’d walked in on. “They have a campaign. Meeting in the conference room now to see the presentation.”
“Excellent. I’m right behind you.” I waited until Tom was gone before turning back to slip on my shoes. “I have to go,” I said to Donovan, unable to look him in the eye.
“Right. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah.” I nodded and hurried to the conference room with my insides twisted up in knots, pretending it didn’t mean anything that Donovan had sounded as confused as I felt.
Chapter 16
“This is the first emergency Friday morning meeting I’ve called at the executive level, that I can recall,” Nate said, looking to Weston for confirmation, “but I’m happy to say it’s for a celebratory cause. We have landed the Phoenix account!”
Cheers erupted throughout the conference room. Roxie had already told me the minute I’d walked in the office, but my team and all of Nate’s team had yet to hear the news. Whoops and hollers and hugs were shared, even a few tears.
Nate waited for the room to settle before continuing with his speech. “Word came in late last night. You all put in your best work. I’m very proud of what you brought to the table. Party on us tonight at Red Farm. Upper West Side location.”
I zoned out a
s Nate went through the details of the project timelines. Accidentally, I caught Donovan’s eye across the table. I’d been avoiding him since Tuesday, or he’d been avoiding me. I wasn’t quite sure, but every time we came in contact with each other, we both immediately ducked away in the opposite direction.
Now, I lowered my eyes quickly. My gaze landed on Weston who was typing furiously on his cell next to me.
It’s going to seem weird if my fiancée isn’t at the celebration, don’t you think?
He held his screen so it was visible when Elizabeth’s reply came through.
At this short notice, I don’t give a fuck. I’m not at your beck and call.
With an audible huff, he stuffed his phone in his suit pocket and sat back in his chair.
Trouble in fake paradise, it seemed. Not that Weston’s pairing with Elizabeth had ever been paradise. I sort of felt sorry for him. Though, really, what did he expect when he let Donovan arrange a marriage for him?
I’d been back to wondering about that over the past few days. Why had Donovan suggested they marry after finding out that I’d be coming to work at Reach? And why did he continue to push me into a relationship with Weston while, at the same time, he acted like he was attracted to me? Was that all in my head?
On top of everything else, there was a very real chance there was now a rumor about Donovan and me after having been caught in such an intimate situation. Thoughts of the potential gossip made me groan inwardly. Here I was, finally making strides with my career. I wasn’t ready to have it tainted by talk that I’d slept my way to my position.
Not to mention what Weston would say if he found out. If I were going to start a relationship with someone else in the office, then fine, but I needed to be the one to tell Weston. Especially if the relationship were with Donovan.
Which it wasn’t because there was no relationship. There was no relationship, nothing had happened, and I’d been tormented about it ever since. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop thinking about what had almost happened, what I’d wanted to happen, what he had wanted to happen.
Need you Now (Top Shelf Romance Book 2) Page 14