“Once I’ve earned my way back into the good graces of my profession, you’ll be home free. I want a career, Zach, not your company.”
He had to admit, he believed her. He understood she was trying to make her own life better. Her methods weren’t the most noble from where he was standing. But he did accept the fact that he was collateral damage.
She leaned forward and flipped to the signature page of the document. “Do you have a pen?”
“Sure.” He rose and crossed to the small rosewood desk that held a telephone and a reading lamp.
“I’m meeting Lindsay for dinner,” Kaitlin explained from behind him. “I don’t want to be too late.”
“I have a date,” he lied, extracting a pen from the small desk drawer. He’d call Dylan and get the number of the pretty helicopter pilot just as soon as Kaitlin left.
“You’re cheating on me?”
Her outburst surprised him, but when he turned, he saw the laughter lurking in her jade-green eyes.
“Yes,” he answered easily, not about to rise to the bait. “I’ve been cheating on you since the wedding.”
“Men,” she huffed in pretend disgust, folding her arms across her chest, accenting her breasts.
Focusing beyond her lovely figure, he shrugged an apology on behalf of his gender as he crossed the room. “What can I say?”
She accepted the pen, bending her head to sign the papers. “Well, I’ve been faithful.”
He waited for the punch line.
It didn’t come.
“Seriously?” he asked.
She finished her signature with a flourish, declining to answer.
But he couldn’t let it go. “You haven’t had sex with anybody since Vegas?”
“What do you mean since Vegas.” She sat up straight, handing the pen back in his direction. “Who do you think I had sex with in Vegas?”
He accepted it, feeling a twinge of remorse. “I didn’t mean it that—”
“The only person I was with in Vegas was you and we didn’t—” The amusement suddenly fled her eyes, replaced by uncertainty. “We, uh, didn’t, did we?”
Okay, this was interesting. “You don’t remember?” He might not have total recall of the entire night’s events. But he knew they hadn’t made love.
Then the vulnerability was back, and she slowly shook her head. “I barely remember the wedding.”
He was tempted to string her along, but quickly changed his mind. The cursed vulnerability again. It made him want to protect her, not mess with her mind.
“We didn’t,” he assured her.
She tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure? Do you remember every minute?”
Their gazes locked for a couple of heartbeats.
“I’d remember that.”
“So, you can’t say for sure…”
“Has this been bothering you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Because it sounds like—”
Suddenly, she snagged her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, coming to her feet. “It’s not bothering me. If we did it, we did it.”
“We didn’t.” Not that he hadn’t wanted to. Not that he wouldn’t love to. Not that he wasn’t still—
Damn it. He had to stop going there.
“Because I’m not pregnant or anything,” she said, slipping into her sexy shoes and straightening her clingy dress. The action pulled it tighter against her lithe body, and it was more than he could do not to let his gaze take a tour.
He summoned his strength. “Kaitlin. I think we need to leave Vegas back in Vegas.”
“We tried.”
That was true.
“But it didn’t work,” she pointed out.
“Blame Elvis,” he drawled, fixing his gaze firmly on her face and telling himself to leave it right there.
Her smile grew. “You’re funnier than you let on, you know?”
He gritted his teeth against her softening expression, those lips, those eyes, that tousled hair. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
But for the first time in his life, he ignored the powerful urge.
“Thanks for signing the papers,” he offered gruffly.
“Thanks for giving me a job.”
The specter of her previous designs appeared inside his head. He didn’t know what he’d do if she insisted on resurrecting them.
Now might not be the time. Then again, now might be the perfect time. They seemed to have come to a truce. Maybe he should take advantage of it.
“You know that building has been in my family for five generations,” he declared.
“That doesn’t mean it can’t look good.”
“There are a lot of different ways to make it look good.” Classic ways. Functional ways. They were a transportation company, for goodness’ sake, not an art museum.