Page 2 of Sincerely Not Yours

His eyebrows rose, but a hint of amusement played on his lips. “No offense taken.”

“Good,” she chirped.

A beat passed before the man asked, “But why the cat sweater?”

It was a valid question. She still quirked a brow at him. “Just because I don’t like football doesn’t mean I can’t take part in a day meant to celebrate something I love. Instead of sports gear, I always wear a sweater showcasing something I actually enjoy.” She cleared her throat. “Cats. Christmas. Knitting. I have another sweater with tiny margaritas and limes.”

Her comment instigated a crooked grin from the stranger—one that sent Gigi’s heart skipping out of rhythm. Gosh dang, he was handsome. In a classical, grouchy, stiff kind of way. Her stomach dipped in contrast to the rising elevator, and she immediately distracted herself by searching through her tote bag for her phone.

You have the worst taste in men,Gigi reminded herself. If butterflies were swarming her belly, he likely had a wife at home, a mistress, or a gambling problem. Or all three. He also could’ve just escaped from jail. Those were the type of men she was drawn to—ones that covered major flaws with a chiseled jaw and a boatload of charisma.

The elevator dinged, stopping at the fourth floor. Gigi located her phone and pulled it from the bottom of her bag.

“Have a great day.” She waved, stepping toward the opening door and recalling the pact she’d made with herself—no more dating. Not for a while . . . or maybe ever. The yo-yo of emotions it brought was more than her heart could handle. She was much better off focusing on work and friends.

The man tipped forward to hold the door open for her. She turned to say a simple “thank you,” but the words never left her mouth. They got stuck in her throat when her gaze connected with his bright, sea-glass eyes. The intensity that lingered in an ocean of aqua and green momentarily ensnared her. And her stupid, slush-covered feet stumbled over the untied laces.

Gigi slid as though she were ice skating. And she’d never been good at any sport. Her feet flew in opposite directions and she became a mess of flailing limbs.

“Oh!” she yelped, trying to catch her balance as her phone shot out of her hand like a bullet, going God knows where. But that was the least of her worries. If she didn’t get some traction, she’d end up in the splits.

Trying to help, the man lurched forward. He grabbed her arm, but she was mid-flail and accidentally smacked him in the face. The back of her hand hit his cheek.Hard.

“Oof,” he groaned, skittering sideways and losing hold of her.

“Holy moly!” Gigi ran in place like Scooby-Doo for what seemed like forever before her legs tangled with the stranger’s and they both tripped out the elevator door. As they tumbled, Gigi’s forehead connected with his jaw like the smack of a hammer hitting a nail, which instigated expletives from them both.

Ugh . . .

Ouch!

They hit the floor, and then it was silent. Mainly because the man was flat on his back, and Gigi was on top of him, her face buried in his neck.

“Oh my God,” she uttered, with the little breath left in her lungs. Her words were stifled, her lips pressed against warm skin. When she inhaled spicy aftershave, she peeled her face from his neck, not believing the predicament she’d gotten herself into. She was trying to walk away from a handsome temptation, and the universe had put her smack on top of him.

Gigi lifted her head. Not sure what to do, she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed up, placing her lips just inches from his. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Mainly because her Christmas kittens pressed against his abnormally hard chest. And abs.

Heat flushed her cheeks.

“I—” she started, wanting to apologize for slapping him in the face and then pulling him to the ground.

He moved his jaw like he wasn’t sure if it was broken. “You sure you don’t like football? That was one heck of a tackle.”

So. Freaking. Embarrassing.

This guy was definitely going straight to Mr. Ryan’s office to claim assault.

“I—” Gigi started again, meaning to apologize, but there were other, more distracting words echoing through the quiet hall.

When she lost her phone, she must’ve unlocked her screen and opened an app, because the device was on the ground, playing the audiobook Gigi had drifted off to the night before—a romance by her favorite author. To her horror, it had started in the middle of a vivid kissing scene. The narrator’s husky voice echoed through the empty corridor, colorfully describing a passionate lip lock with throbbing hearts and pressing bodies.

Gigi gasped. Heat seared her face as the man’s eyes went wide, and Gigi became extra aware of how she was draped over him.

Swearing, she jumped up, making the man grunt with her quick retreat. Her phone was a few strides away, and she sprinted for it, diving to silence the audiobook before another steamy word could leave the speaker. Then, in the deafening quiet, she looked over. The man was standing, brushing down the front of his suit. The look on his face was anything but amused.

A nervous laugh escaped her. “Audiobooks. That’s another thing I love. Cats, knitting, margaritas, and audiobooks.” She wanted to shrink into a ball and roll into the cubicles behind her.

Mr. Swanky Suit gave her a tight smile before pressing the elevator call button. “Interesting start to my day,” he noted, and the door opened.

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