Page 7 of Izzy and Her Off-Limits Love

“Tell me what to do?” I say, sounding just as pitiful as I feel.

Merritt gives me one more soft smile, and then her face transforms. She straightens her shoulders as a spark lights her eyes.

“What you need is an outfit to act both as a sword and a shield. I think I know just the thing.”

Before I reportto my new temporary workspace, I do my version of a movie montage of preparation for some brave event. Only, unlike Rocky jogging through the streets and then fist pumping atop the stairs, I pace at the bottom of the stairwell, playing Meghan Trainor on my phone. No fist pumping. Only steady, controlled breathing like Merritt suggested.

Maybetoocontrolled, because by the time I vacate the stairwell and head to the elevator—no way I’m using the stairs for anything but a hiding spot in these heels—I’m light-headed and accidentally lean on the elevator console, pressing the buttons for every single floor. Thankfully, that’s only five before mine. I’m eternally grateful no one gets on at any of the stops.

I’ve almost recovered when I reach my floor, only to have my breath hitch again at the sight of Liam exiting the stairwell. He’s in a suit that looks tailor-made for maximized hotness. And he’s grinning at me.

“Thought I’d cut through your office in case I ran into you,” he says, pointing toward the stairwell.

My heart seizes at the realization that, if he had been a tiny bit earlier, he would have walked right in on me pacing at the bottom.

I’m sure my smile looks deranged. “I told you—it’s not my office. I’ve got a cube.”

“And now, a conference room. What will you do with all the extra space?”

A year ago, I’d have said something perfect and snarky, matching him quip for quip. Now? I can’t stop overthinking every syllable.

He’s almost engaged,I remind myself.Act like it. Fake it till you make it out alive.

“I guess I’ll be the best professional I can be?” I say with a lame shrug.

The furrow in Liam’s brow lets me know he’s disappointed. Or maybe just confused as to how I’ve shifted from the person who would give it right back to this robot version of myself.

“Shall we?” I ask, needing to disentangle myself from a conversation that quickly turned awkward.

Even though it’s still a few minutes before I’m actually supposed to be at work, I catch Shaun leaning out of his cubicle, watching my exchange with Liam with narrowed eyes.

My relief at having some space from him almost dwarfs my anxiety about working with Liam. Shaun can’t watch my every move and report perceived infractions to our boss if I’m out of sight.

As though he’s taking his cues from me, Liam shifts to all business as we enter the conference room, explaining his goals for the next few weeks and how I’ll be helping.

I only wish this professional version of him was less hot. But it makes warmth expand in my chest to hear him talking about his new software, pointing out the little things he’s proud of, listing off the ways it will save time and improve workflow for nonprofits who have better things to do than stress about their finances.

I always knew Liam would do amazing things with his brain, but to see this very tangible evidence of his brilliance is pretty amazing. He’s doing exactly what he wanted to do with his life. And doing it well.

Not that it’s surprising. Liam was always this way. A nerdy little boy who turned into a hot, nerdy man. It makes me proud, though it’s not like I have any part at all in his success. It’s just nice to see someone I know reaching their full potential. Unlike me, with my graduate degree going totally unused while I do busy work.

“What?” Liam asks, and I realize I’m staring at him.

“Nothing. It’s just … good to see you doing so well at this. I’m happy for you.” This feels almost like a confession of feelings, way too intimate for this room. Which suddenly feels smaller.

His cheeks flush the slightest shade of pink, and I remember him during his awkward middle school years when he blushed constantly.

“Thanks,” he says, recovering and flashing me a devastating grin. One that makes my chest pinch with guilt.

Because I shouldn’t be looking at a taken man this way.

The rest of the day, I keep my focus on work, doing an admirable job of being robot Izzy who has no feelings. Such an admirable job that I forget all about Christmas karaoke until Alisa calls as I’m packing up.

I consider not answering but she’s the kind who will keep calling.

“Hey,” I say quietly, well aware of Liam at the other end of the conference table, packing up his computer, not even attempting to hide his interest in my conversation.

“You’re not going to back out, are you?”

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