Page 3 of Fresh Canvas
“Allow me.” He held open the elevator door before stepping into the quiet, intimate space. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Ryan Willis. And you are?”
I steeled myself for the inevitable confusion of my name.
“Amantha Adams,” I said, biting my lip.
Eyes the color of a deep blue lake shimmered as they gave me a blatant once-over. Ryan’s smile widened, as if he actually liked what he saw.
“Well, Amantha, it’s nice to meet you.”
I recovered from my shock slower than I would have liked. “It’s… It’s nice to meet you, too.” I ducked my head and immediately regretted my practical, scuffed loafers.
Ryan Willis seemed like the type of guy who would only date heels.
High ones.
“Your pen! I think you dropped this.” I scrambled like an idiot to grab the engraved pen glinting from the floor as the elevator dinged.
Ryan dragged a hand through his sandy blonde hair, as if he’d done it a million times in the presence of a drooling female.
Not going to lie, it felt flattering. Like I might be worthy enough to be one of those drooling females. He slid his hands into his pockets and presented me with an adorable yet devastatingly sexy dimple.
“Keep it. After all,” he said, stepping out of the elevator with the manila folder, “it has my number on it. I hope to hear from you soon, Amantha. Very soon.” He allowed me one more glimpse of that dimple before the doors sealed shut.
A fresh wave of October air slapped me in the face. I shivered, still standing a few yards away from the front door. An echo of butterflies past fluttered in my stomach.
Through the window, those same elevator doors sprang open with a faint chime. A smile broke across my face as Ryan stepped out. The man had aged like fine wine.
His gorgeous suit coat was open and unbuttoned. His tie hung loosely around his neck. So handsome.
My mouth ran dry. Therehad to be an ember that survived from our previous flame.
There had to be.
I tipped my head in confusion as my smile faltered.
A slender figure stepped out of the elevator with her fingers laced through Ryan’s. The woman’s tight black dress gave way to her long, caramel-colored legs.
Vanessa, his paralegal assistant, laughed and wiped away a smudge of lipstick on his cheek, her black hair fanning out behind them. I recognizedthe obnoxious sound of her laugh from the office Christmas party.
Ryan grinned back at her, running a hand through his sandy hair in that same, practiced movement.
A pang reverberated in my chest.
The blood drained from my face and pooled in my throbbing toes. Static buzzing filled my ears. I shifted, one of my high heels catching on a crack in the sidewalk. After stumbling back to the van, I dove inside, praying they hadn’t seen me.
The overhead light illuminated the cab until I slammed the door shut with a curse. I lay low in my seat, heart in my throat.
What is he doing?
Panic building, I peeked up to watch Ryan lead his beautiful assistant to the street corner in front of me and press the crosswalk button. Protecting her from the chilly wind, Ryan slipped his suit coat over her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss.
What a freaking gentleman.
His groping hands on Vanessa’s backside, however, seemed anything but gentlemanly.
My foot hovered mere inches above the gas pedal, itching to run them both over. Maybe a woman with more self-respect would have, or at least would’ve donesomething.
Instead, I sat pitiful and frozen, watching the father of my child stroll hand-in-hand with the woman wearing the dry cleaning I picked up last week.
