Page 11 of Her Christmas Wish
He could work with that.
She couldn’t work with him. Shouldn’t have reached out.
She’d made a huge mistake.
It seemed to be a habit with her, an unhealthy pattern, where Grayson Bartholomew was concerned.
And the lipstick, dammit. She still had it in her hand with her keys. Had thought, maybe, if Leigh was just coming in from the playroom, she could slip in a quick hug and kiss...
She was going to have to move the lipstick to her left hand to use the keys in her right to unlock the door.
Or risk dropping the tube at Grayson’s feet.
She’d been planning to show him, with complete professionalism, how far she’d come without him. By having him in her new partner office, yes.
But also by being able to offer him some expertise in an area where he had great need. All without any sign at all that seeing him again was having any effect on her.
Instead, she was going to fumble with lipstick? While she wasn’t wearing any? With a meeting between them just minutes away, as though she’d been on her way to put some on for him?
He had to go.
Before she made more of a fool of herself.
She’d look like a complete idiot if she told him she’d changed her mind. He was there, on less than an hour’s notice, at her behest.
And she hadn’t arranged any kind of escape call.
Hadn’t even thought of the prearranged plan to have a friend call in case she needed an excuse to leave an uncomfortable date. Not since college.
Really?
She was a grown, very successful woman. A respected partner in a well-known law firm. A responsible, dedicated mother.
She was going to let one lone man unnerve her?
Honesty was her policy. In both her business and personal life.
She couldn’t tell the man she’d changed her mind because he was setting her back a decade.
Likewise, if she suddenly remembered some other commitment, he’d know she was chickening out.
They’d been walking for many seconds without any conversation at all. Her door was just ahead.
Think! Do something!
“This is it,” she said, shocked at how normal her voice sounded. Stared at her door for a split second, frozen, made immobile by indecision. What was she going to do?
Her gaze focused. Saw the gilded sign on her door bearing her name.
Brought her hands together at the doorknob. Slid her lipstick into her left hand as her key slid into the lock.
Turned the key, reached for the knob.
And dropped the tube of lipstick on Grayson Bartholomew’s expensive, shiny black leather shoe.
Chapter Four
She hadn’t been waiting for him.
