Page 18 of Making It Burn
And slowly, without either of us acknowledging it, we found a working rhythm.
By the time Lisa knocked on the door to deliver the Riverside Medical file, we’d mapped out a preliminary strategy for the PharmaTech merger that was actually solid.
“Special delivery,” she announced, stepping inside with a manila folder.Her eyes did a quick sweep of the room—Mason at his desk, me in the chair across from him, papers spread between us like evidence of actual collaboration—and one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched up.
“Thanks, Lisa,” Mason said, reaching for the file.
She handed it over, but her gaze lingered on us for a beat too long.Her head tilted slightly, like a bird spotting something interesting, and her lips pressed together in a way that wasn’t quite a smile.
“You two look...productive,” she said, her tone overly neutral.
“Just working,” I said.
“Mm-hmm.”Her eyes flicked to the coffee cups on Mason’s desk—two of them, one clearly mine—then back to us.The corner of her mouth twitched.
Mason, oblivious or pretending to be, opened the file and started scanning the first page.“Is this everything Morrison will need to see?”
“Everything and then some.I highlighted the relevant case law.”Lisa crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.Her gaze bounced between us again.“You know, it’s funny, but…”
“What is?”I asked, and noticed Lisa’s cheeks turn red.
“Nothing,” she blurted, then she left before either of us could respond.
Mason flipped open the file and immediately dove into prep mode for his afternoon hearing.I watched him work—the way his eyes scanned pages at lightning speed, the way he made notes in the margins with that precise, angular handwriting, the way his brow furrowed when he found something that didn’t sit right.
He was completely in his element.Focused.Confident.In control.
And he was absolutely, undeniably, devastatingly hot.
Shit.
“You’re staring,” Mason said without looking up.
I blinked.“What?”
“You’re staring at me.Why?”
Blood raced up my neck.“I’m not staring.I’m, uh, observing.”
“Observing what?”
How much I want to run my fingers through that perfect hair.
“Your process,” I said.“You’re very… thorough.”
“That’s called being competent.”
“Right, competent.”I stood, suddenly needing distance.“I’ll work on the due diligence reports in my office.”
“Fine.”
I headed for the door, then paused with my hand on the handle.“Mason?”
“What?”
“For what it’s worth—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but we actually worked pretty well together just now.”
He looked up, and for a moment, I saw it again.That glimpse of something underneath.
