Page 31 of For the Plot
He raises an eyebrow.
I wince. “Okay, maybe I’m failing but I just figured a friendly lunch between two kind of strangers that have a weird pastconnection and might have crossed a line yesterday might be weird?”
“Crossed a line?” He gives me that look, the one that says he knows exactly what I’m talking about but he’s playing coy.
“Oh.” I flash him a flirty smile, allowing a few seconds of silence to settle between us. “I guess I assumed telling your boss that you liked the way he looks at you was probably teetering on the side of inappropriate.”
His gaze stays on me for another few seconds, staring at me over the rim of his glass as he takes a drink. “I guess that depends on how you think your boss is looking at you.”
Oh.Well, shit.
My mouth dries instantly. I blink at him, unsure if he actually said that out loud or if I’ve finally gone insane and started hallucinating my sexual fantasies during lunch breaks.
The way he’s watching me… God. It’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes, purposely, reverently, like he’s savoring the idea of peeling every layer off with his hands.
My voice is steady, somehow, even though I’m ninety-nine percent certain my pulse just relocated to between my thighs. “Okay. Hypothetically, let’s say… she thinks he’s looking at her like he wants to pin her to the table and make her forget her own name.”
Reece’s jaw tightens. Barely. But I see it. He exhales through his nose like he’s resetting, like I just said the one thing he’s been trying not to think about all damn day.
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering a little too long like he’s trying to call my bluff.
“Then,” he says, low and deliberate, “he’s not doing a very good job hiding it.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
My stomach flips. Heat slides down my spine like a slow-melting candle. My legs cross instinctively beneath the table.
“Sounds like that boss should be careful,” I breathe out, trying to ignore the ache blooming in my core. “Sounds like he’s walking a very dangerous line.”
“He’s aware,” Reece says, voice rougher now. “And he’s been standing on that line since the moment she walked into his office in a red dress.”
I look away. I have to. If I don’t, I’ll say something reckless. Likeplease, fuck me on your desk.
A beat passes. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly very aware of how warm my cheeks feel.
“I promise not to ask about your astrological chart or your childhood trauma,” I say instead, grasping for levity—because if I don’t lighten this moment, I’ll combust right here in front of him. That earns me a real laugh. Short, low, and so startlingly intimate that I feel it between my thighs.
“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”
“Never claimed not to be.” I offer my best goofy smile and hope that my nervous energy is enough to break this weird, tense ice that I can’t seem to get through.
We eat in silence for a minute, the kind that feels oddly comfortable. I take a sip of my iced tea and glance at him again. His jaw’s still tense. I want to ask what’s got him so tightly wound, but I don’t. Instead, I ease in sideways.
“How’s Archer?” The chopsticks freeze in his hand.
Bingo.
I act like I don’t notice, continuing to swirl my noodles around my fork. “I mean, one of us had to bring him up. Might as well be me.”
Reece sets the chopsticks down gently, his expression unreadable. “He’s doing well. He works for the company.”
“Seriously? I haven’t seen him.”
“He doesn’t come into this office, mostly remote. He’s on the road a lot with clients.”
I glance at him. “Does he know I’m here?”
Reece shakes his head. “No.” The word is hard. Sharp around the edges.
