Page 24 of Divine Sense

Over the last week, we’d exchanged various texts every day or so.As friends do, I told myself for the hundredth time. When I sent her that message after she came to my office, I set three very clear rules with myself. One, I would never text her first. If she texted me, I would reply, but I would never be the first to start the conversation. Two, I would be friendly and cordial but nothing more. There were a few messages she sent me that bridged on the possibility of being more than friendly, but I shut them down. She was a client,a friend, and nothing more. And rule number three, I wouldn’t be telling any of the guys about our conversations. If they got a hold of this I would never hear the end of it. There was nothing to tell, so they didn’t need to know.

At least that’s what I told myself.

I swiped my thumb across the screen and read the message.

Would you rather I wear my hair up or down at the party tomorrow?

Up so I can see that beautiful neck of yours and easily imagine what it would be like to press my lips—I shook my head and extricated the thought of doing anything like that with her from my mind. I cleared my throat and swallowed hard before answering.

I think you should wear it however you want to wear it.

An excellent, friends-only kind of response.

I didn’t ask how I wanted to wear it, I asked how *you* wanted me to wear it.

I was playing with fire just texting her, and giving her my opinion on how she dressed wasn’t helping anything. No matter how much I wanted to tell her to wear her hair up because I liked the way her neck looked, I couldn’t. She was off-limits for more reasons than I could count.

I want you to wear it how you want to wear it.

You’re no fun to try and play with, you know that?

Baby girl, if only you knew how much fun I could be to play with.

“Why are you looking at your phone like that?” A voice rang out in my once empty office. The unexpected sound startled me from the not safe for work thoughts I was having and I nearly dropped my phone on the floor. When I looked up from my chair, I found Kendall standing in the doorway of my office, giving me a sideways stare.

“I wasn’t looking at my phone like anything.” I tugged on my tie to straighten it and to give my hands something to do. She squinted at me from across my office before moving to bring me something.

“Okay, whatever you want to tell yourself,” she clipped, setting a large envelope on my desk. Before turning to exit, she studied me and opened her mouth to say something but acted like she thought better of it and left without another word.

She had been on my case about the 7:00 a.m. shopping trip I sent her on and would come up with any excuse to ask about why William Sinclair’s daughter had personally invited me to come to the party this weekend. If Kendall thought something was going on, she would spread it around this office which means Hankwould hear about it, which means my friends would hear about it.

I thought she was only your ‘friend?’ What’s the big deal if she’s only a friend?

The big deal was that I didn’t like her as only a friend. I liked her as more than that but I knew clear as day just how bad of an idea that was. She and I are from totally different worlds. She grew up in the land of crystal glasses and monogrammed pillowcases. I grew up working as soon as I was old enough so I could help my family fill the pantry with groceries. I may have money now, but I know I’m not the kind of man she should be with, especially in the eyes of her family.

I ran my finger along the seal of the large manilla envelope and pulled out the documents. Enclosed was a list of all the fundraisers, dinners, campaign rallies, and events for William Sinclair’s campaign that he requested I be at to represent my company. As I read the list, I couldn’t help but notice that the Christmas party this weekendwasn’ton it. My hand opened the drawer in my desk and pulled out the invitation Magnolia had brought by last week. The one she said her mother was going to put in the mail but she decided to bring by on her own. If Susan was going to mail my invitation, why wasn’t this weekend’s function on the list? I picked up my phone and sent off a message.

Magnolia.

My brain started to put together the pieces and I needed to hear it from her to know if it was true.

Yes Jack?

Do your parents know I’ll be at your party tomorrow?

Why would you ask that?

Because I just got a list of events they’re asking me to attend, and tomorrow’s party isn’t on it.

They didn’t request that you come tomorrow, I did. Remember?

I leaned back in my chair and rolled my eyes at the ceiling.

Do they know I’m coming?

I figured they would find out when you showed up.

I chewed on my bottom lip and stared at my phone. She had told me her mother was going to put the invitation in the mail. Clearly that wasn’t true and her parents weren’t expecting me at all. I knew she had asked that I attend, but I’d assumed she would have told her parents I’d be coming. My brain was trying to come up with a response when my phone buzzed again under my hand.

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