Page 61 of Miss Matched

“You’re alone?”

Yes, and I wish you’d come over here and kiss me.

Where did that thought come from? Is this how it’s going to be every time I’m in a room with him? Ready and willing for him to strip me of my clothes—or, worse, my sanity?

“I’m letting them work from home for a bit after everything that’s happened.” I wave my hand toward the door.

“But you’re here,” he points out.

I lean back in my chair and plant my hands on the armrests. “I’m fine. This is where I need to be, back at work, doing things. I can’t hide forever.”

He looks at me like he wants to argue, but I stop him.

“Speaking of work, we don’t have a meeting,” I say. My eyes finally meet his, and I realize his playful grin has faded.

No doubt because I’m slowly getting colder toward him, knowing it’s too risky to show what’s simmering just under the surface.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says.

“This neighborhood?”

Zac shrugs. “Or one nearby. Thought I’d take you to lunch.”

“Lunch?”

We haven’t seen each other since I stayed at his penthouse. Not one call or text. I’d like to say I didn’t check my phone every five minutes hoping, but I’d be lying to the permanent fixture in my hand.

And now he wants lunch? Like there isn’t a two-day-old elephant throwing a tantrum between us?

“To catch up.” Zac nervously tucks his hands in his pockets, and my stomach sinks as I realize what he wants to talk about.

His date with Jasmine. I’m making this about me, but of course he’s here to talk about another woman—a woman I set him up with, no less.

I shuffle the papers on my desk and try to gather my composure. If it’s possible to fracture at a thought, then something irreversible just broke inside me. This is why sleeping with clients is guaranteed to only lead to bad things, why it’s been my cardinal rule to never do it.

Get it together, Kennedy. Be a professional.

“Of course, your date with Jasmine,” I say, standing so fast I almost knock over my chair. “I’m guessing it went well, then?”

Zac’s eyebrows pinch like my words punched him. But he recovers quickly, straightening his shoulders and giving me a tight nod.

“Good,” I say. “At this point, you can feel free to reach out to her to set up dates. I really only hand-hold in the first few, then the ball is in your court.”

Zac’s mouth opens like there’s more he wants to say, but he snaps it shut and nods. “Thanks.”

“So, lunch?” I say, dipping my chin before he can read the look on my face. If it’s anything like the knot in my chest, it threatens to show my hand.

As I follow him to his car, the consequences of the other night hits me like a train that has no caboose—one car after the other, and they just keep coming.

He’s too good for you.

It was just sex.

He’s your client.

He wants Jasmine.

And the worst of all:

Being alone is what you wanted.

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