The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(26)

“Hello Courtney.” I smile awkwardly.

“Go in dear, he’s expecting you.”

I bet he is.

I fake a smile, trudge up the corridor, and knock on his door. “Come in,” his deep voice calls.

I pause and close my eyes, push the door open.

And there he sits, in all his arrogant glory.

Grey suit, white shirt, dark hair, and a jaw that would cut glass. He gives me a slow, sexy smile as he swivels on his chair. “Hello Kate.”

I clench my jaw, wanting to correct him that it’s Kathryn. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

I shrug. “Fine. I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what happened. And I just want you to know that I am mortified and horrified and I’m so sorry you had to look after me and I don’t . . .” I look around as I try to find the words. “I am so embarrassed.”

He smiles as his eyes hold mine. “Don’t be.”

I puff air into my cheeks—great, now he’s going to get all condescending.

“You scared me,” he says as he picks up his pen.

“I apologize.” I turn my head and stare out of the window, anything to avoid his gaze.

“Kate.”

I focus on the building across the street.

“Kate.”

I drag my eyes to his.

“Take the rest of the day off and go and see your doctor please.”

I open my mouth to say something.

“And don’t give me your smart mouth,” he interrupts as he stands. “This is non-negotiable, you scared the hell out of me. I thought you were dead.”

My eyes well with tears of shame.

“What’s wrong?” he says. His voice is different. Soft, cajoling.

“Don’t,” I spit.

“This was an accident. It could have happened to anyone, why are you so defensive?” he snaps.

“I’m not. You’re the defensive one.”

“I’m not defensive.”

“Yes. You are, since the second day I met you, you’ve had an issue with me,” I splutter.

He screws up his face in a question. “What?”

“Anyway, I didn’t come here to discuss this. I came to say thank you for last night.”

His eyes hold mine.

I twist my fingers in front of me. “So . . . thank you.” I shrug. “I really appreciate it and I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.”

He sits back in his chair and picks up his pen again. “You’re welcome.” His eyes hold mine.

I shrug again; this is just awkward. I point to the door with my thumb. “I’m going to get going.”

“To the doctor.”

“Yes.”

I turn and head to the door.

“Kate,” he calls.

I turn back to him.

“What happened on the second day I met you?”

I stare at him.

“Forgive my rudeness, but I have no idea.”

I pause for a moment as I consider if I should elaborate. “I told you that you have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Not in a sleazy way . . . In a . . .” I shrug. “Observation kind of way.” His brow furrows. “And you’ve despised me ever since.”

He purses his lips as if thinking. “I don’t remember you saying that to me.”

“I know.” I force a smile and turn back toward the door.

“Hey,” he calls.

I turn back toward him again.

He puts his hands into his pockets. “Vulnerable Kate is quite endearing.”

We stare at each other as the air crackles between us.

“Yeah, well . . . she’s still high,” I whisper.

He smiles softly.

Leave.

Leave now.

I turn and walk from his office as confusion surrounds me.

What was that?

Just like Elliot told me to, I took the day off and went to see the doctor about last night. Turns out it was just a bad reaction, so scratch that medication off my ever-to-do-again list.

It’s late at night and I’m tired and have mostly mooched around all day, although that could have a lot to do with my damaged pride.

I can’t believe he saw me like that; to have anyone see me like that is a nightmare, but to have him . . . it’s unfathomable.

My Messenger pings and I see the name and smile; we’ve been chatting together all week, me and Edgar Moffatt. I hit open.

Hi Pinkie.

I smile and reply:

Hi Ed.

His reply bounces back.

What you doing?

I type:

In bed, winding down for the day, you?

I hit send.

Same, I’m exhausted. I had the worst night last night.

I reply:

Oh no, what happened?

I can see the dots as he types, then it stops. Then I see the dots again as he types, and it stops again. This must be a long message. I wait for him to finish.

I found one of my co-workers unconscious on the floor of her office. I called emergency but thankfully she was okay and I ended up escorting her home.

I stayed with her until her friend arrived but I couldn’t sleep all night for worrying about her.

I sit up. What?

Couldn’t be . . .