Page 47 of Just The Way You Aren't

I notice right away that there are folders, paper, and clutter on every surface of the office—except my chair. She’s kept it open for me. Even though she has to remove a stack of folders from hers.

“So, I’ve talked to our clients and so many are ecstatic about making items for the silent auction,” she says as we both sit down. “Are you sure we can’t let Juana make some of her breads? She’s going to donate some of her mother’s backstrap weaving, but she’d also like to contribute something of her own.”

I think of the Health Department, OSHA, liability, and Silver Hearts getting sued. But looking at Willow’s hopeful expression, I simply decide I’ll cover the fallout if there are any problems. “You know, on second thought, I think that’s a great idea. Tell Juana to get her oven ready.”

“Really?” Willow’s smile at that moment could keep the Langley Building running for decades. I don’t care if Juana’s breads send half of Manhattan to the hospital, it’s already worth it just to see that genuine smile on Willow’s face now. “Thanks, Damien.”

“I’d hate to disappoint Juana.” That’s just an excuse. The person I really didn’t want to disappoint is Willow.

We talk for hours about parts of the charity event that are already nailed down. I get the impression neither of us really want to leave. Then I make the mistake of glancing at my watch. “Ah, Christ,” I say.

Willow’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“I have to go. It’s past ten and I’m supposed to be approving a PowerPoint presentation for Guardian Productions that’s going to be given in the morning.” I unlock my iPad and see that the proposal was sent to me two hours ago. “Damn it. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Okay.” Willow stands.

We glance at each other awkwardly. The air between us thickens and I look at her lips again. It stuns me, how much I ache to kiss her. In fact, I’d like nothing more than to blow off the presentation work, lock her office door, and pick up where we left off several nights ago.

Then I see her extended hand. Was that how cold it felt to her when I offered my hand the morning after we had sex? If so, she must think I’m the world’s biggest jackass.

“Goodnight, Damien,” she says.

I blink at her hand, then quickly shake it. “Goodnight, Willow.”

CHAPTER 16

WILLOW

Afew days later, Damien has decided we need to check out The Plaza’s ballroom to confirm the venue will meet our needs. I told him I’m sure it’s perfect—let’s be real, it’s beyond perfect—but he wants me to see it anyway. At his insistence, he’s picking me up at home to take me there.

I’m nervous at the thought of him coming to my place again, especially after I’ve seen the jaw-dropping palace he calls home. My cramped little apartment is hardly better than a closet by comparison. Not to mention the fact that I’m sharing the small space with half a dozen furry roommates. Maybe that number is closer to a dozen now. I don’t keep count.

I nearly jump out of my skin when my buzzer sounds from the building entrance at street level. Oh, shit. Is he early? Nope. He’s right on time. And I’m running late. What else is new?

Panicking now, I rush to my phone. “Hey,” I say over the intercom, trying to sound calm and in control. “I’m not quite ready yet, but I’ll buzz you in.”

“You’re not—” Damien replies, but I cut off the rest of what he’s about to say by pressing the button to let him in.

Very shortly, he’s standing at my opened door, frowning. “You’re not ready?” he asks, eyeing the long T-shirt I threw on after I got out of the shower. His nostrils flare as his gaze travels over my braless breasts and bare legs. He clears his throat. “You were supposed to be ready by now.”

I roll my eyes. “Keep your pants on. I’ll only be a couple of minutes. I just have to put on some clothes. I was wrestling with my hair,” I explain.

He glances at my hair and something sparks in his eyes. “I wouldn’t bother wrestling with it. It looks great just the way it—holy shit, what is that?”

Rufus is winding his way between Damien’s ankles, meowing impatiently. After all, a guest has been here for five seconds and has not yet given him a treat or ear scratches. The nerve!

I laugh. “Sorry. This handsome boy is Rufus. He wants chin scratches,” I explain, bending down to oblige him. “Yes he does. Yes he does, doesn’t he?” I scratch Rufus under his chin and behind the ears. He purrs loudly and glares up at Damien, making it clear it was Damien’s job to do the cooing and scratching. Fat chance of that, Rufus.

“Uh, hello, Rufus,” Damien says, looking skeptical.

I pop back up and motion Damien inside. “Come in. You can sit on the couch.” I give him a knowing grin. “I even made a space for you.”

Damien very carefully steps over Rufus, who doesn’t make it easy for him, and steps cautiously over to the couch. He lowers himself onto the worn cushion like he’s afraid the whole thing will collapse beneath him. It’s possible there’s a good chance of that, actually.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I tell him, trying not to laugh as several of my menagerie of pets come around to investigate.

Spike, who’s generally afraid of newcomers in his home, has just had an accident on the floor. He steps over to sniff Damien’s leg after Tiny puts his head in Damien’s lap.

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