Every Last Secret(41)

I won’t risk everything on an unknown. I glanced at him. Was there a hidden meaning in the words, or had he just given me an unintended peek into the inner workings of his mind? Maybe he considered me a wild card, one with an unknown reaction if he made a move.

It was interesting to see the evolution in him over the last two months. He used to flinch when I touched him, and avoid prolonged eye contact. Vomited Cat’s name whenever the conversation turned away from work. Now, I noticed his eyes lingering on me, his gaze warmer when he smiled, his tongue looser to confess. He didn’t bring her up very often, and when he did, he rarely used her name. All tells. Little tiny arrows pointing in the right direction.

I bent at the waist over the low minifridge, keeping my legs straight, my butt out. “You don’t seem to want to walk away from the deal.”

“I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be back here crunching the numbers. I’d be screwing my wife on a beach in Hawaii.”

I straightened and came closer, pausing just before him, the crude reference spiking my competitive arousal. “But instead you’re here.”

“Yes.” His eyes lifted to me. “With you.”

With me.

He reached for the bottle, and his fingers brushed against mine as I released it. William Winthorpe was an alpha male, one who enjoyed the chase, and I’d fostered that challenge in every way I could. A flirtatious look countered with a small insult. A casual touch followed by a mention of my husband.

Sometimes I wondered if he was doing the same thing with me. A compliment on my dress, a long kiss with his wife. Quick responses to my morning texts but nothing late at night. If it was a game, it was one he played very well and seemed to enjoy. I smiled at him and could feel the lines of our relationship blurring.

Neighbors. Boss. Employee. Friends.

We were circling each other, each rotation growing closer, and was this the moment? Our eyes met, and he stood. “Why did you really come here, Neena?”

“You’re hungry,” I said quietly, not stepping back, our proximity already too close to be professional. Around us, the empty building lay dormant and silent.

He set his water on the conference table and reached out, his fingertips settling on my waist and tugging me forward until I was flush against him, my thighs to his, hip to hip, the warmth of him branded along my body. This was it. His hand slid up my back and twisted around the length of my hair, tugging it back until my chin was lifted, my face turned up to his. It was happening. His gaze dropped to my mouth. I held my breath.

And then . . . he lowered his mouth, and his lips met mine. A soft brush, the hair around his mouth tickling mine. A second kiss, this one deeper, our lips parting, his tongue meeting mine. His mouth was warm, his kiss tender, almost hesitant. The great William Winthorpe in a moment of moral indecision. I pulled at the back of his head, strengthening our kiss, and he responded, pushing me back until I hit the wall of the conference room, his hands exploring and gripping—

He pulled away, his hands raised as if protesting his innocence. I sagged against the wall, my footing uncertain, and waited, my lips tingling from the contact.

“That shouldn’t have happened.” He turned and rested his palms on the table, his strong shoulders hunched over. One hand shot out, a quick movement that startled me, and the water bottle flew across the room and bounced off the wall. He cursed. “You need to go.”

“I—ah.” I struggled to find the right thing to say. “It’s okay, William. No one will ever know.”

“Go,” he bit out.

I crouched, picking up my bag, and hurried out of the chilly room, my flats tapping softly along the floor until I reached the elevator, my ears pricked for the sound of his call.

It never came, but it didn’t matter. I had felt the electricity between us, the passion, the surge of his need. This wasn’t the end—it was the beginning, the blurring of lines between professional and friendly, appropriate and not.

Blurred lines. Smear enough of them together, and you could change the color of everything.

His marriage.

My life.

Everything.





CHAPTER 25

CAT

It had been a week since I’d returned from Hawaii, and I still hadn’t adjusted to the cool shift in temperatures. I was submerged in the heated pool, sitting at the bottom of the shallow end, when I heard the muffled sound of a yell. I immediately pushed off the rock floor and broke the surface. Blinking the water out of my eyes, I saw Maria, our head of landscaping, kneeling at the side of the pool and waving frantically at me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s next door,” she whispered. “The new neighbors. There is a man screaming for help. I didn’t want to go in case police are needed.”

I pushed out of the pool and shivered in the chill of the morning air. Wringing the water from my hair, I took the robe she offered. In the distance, I heard a pained yell and spun my head to the sound. “Who is home? ?Quien está aquí?”

“No one. Just us.”

“Okay.” I yanked the robe on and pushed my feet into my flip-flops.

“Here is your phone.” She looked at me worriedly. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Thank you for letting me know.” I ran along the cobblestone path toward the Ryders’ home, my teeth already chattering in the cold. I should have swum indoors today but had relished the idea of a hot-tub session after my swim, and possibly a snack of prosciutto and melon as I enjoyed the smell of fresh-cut grass and roses. I eyed the low wall between our properties and then skirted it, finding an opening in the bushes big enough to slip through. “Matt!” I called out. “Matt! Are you okay?”