“Love bite?” He rubbed at the spot, making it redder. “Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday. This would have been fun to explain in the Townsend meeting.”
She gaped at him, a humorless laugh eking out of her throat. “You’re impossible.”
“You started it,” he reminded her with a lopsided grin.
Shane stepped into her office, reclaiming his perch at the corner of her desk and choking the atmosphere with his overwhelming presence. Was that shame or lust burning a hole in her stomach? Hard to tell.
It wasn’t her fault Shane’s arrival happened to be perfectly in sync with her pending nervous breakdown.
“We should talk,” he said, his voice a low husk.
He sounded so serious, her heart stalled, then pounded extra hard to make up for the missed beat. The last thing she wanted was to talk. She wanted to pretend the kiss had never happened, to be in blissful denial. She wanted to—
“I’d like to take you on a date.”
Crickitt felt her eyebrows rise.
“You’ve left me no choice,” he continued. “Since you singlehandedly nullified our friendship pact.”
She gaped at him. Was he saying she’d seduced him? Hadn’t Ronald just accused her of being lackluster in the bedroom? Yet Shane, a potent mixture of masculinity and sex appeal, wanted to take her on a date?
How could two people see her so differently? And who would she rather be? The barely tolerated wife of a banker, or lover of a primal, potent man whose knees she’d weakened with just a kiss.
There was a heady, downright delicious prospect. Shane wanted more. Shane wanted her.
Shane’s mouth twitched in what she recognized as him barely holding back a smile. He stood abruptly and walked into the hallway. “How about tomorrow?”
She didn’t answer right away. The idea excited her as much as it intimidated her. Was she even equipped for a date with someone like Shane August? Shouldn’t she have a few practice dates with men who weren’t billionaires? Her gaze flickered over his body. Or built like underwear models?
He lifted his brow at her silence, holding out a palm. “Well?”
Crickitt had never been a fan of futility, and no amount of stalling would change the answer pressing against her lips. She reached for her mailbag and extinguished the light in her office before stepping forward and putting her hand in his.
Shane intertwined their fingers, and their steps automatically aligned as they walked through the abandoned waiting room. He stopped to press the call button on the elevator, and the doors slid open.
She cast one final glance at the threshold, her mind whirling. Crossing the literal line from lobby to lift would, in a way, also be crossing the one drawn between co-workers and lovers.
“I promise to stay on my own side of the car,” Shane said at her hesitation. “Think you can keep your hands to yourself, Ms. Day?”
A burble of laughter burst from her lips at his challenge. How did this man make her feel powerful and confident when Ronald made her feel exactly the opposite? Shane dropped her hand to press the button for the ground floor, and Crickitt took a bold step in his direction.
Startled, Shane flattened against the wall, an amused expression on his face as Crickitt poked a finger into his lapel.
“The next move, Mr. August,” she said, issuing her own dare in a low voice, “is yours.”
Chapter 18
Crickitt frantically searched her sparse, bland closet in search of something to wear for her date with Shane this morning. He’d promised to pick her up at eleven, instructing her to “wear something comfortable.” Rows of “comfortable” clothes greeted her. All dull-colored and more function than form. Then she came across the peachy-colored blouse Sadie had complimented her on the other day.
And suddenly, she knew just what to wear. Digging through her dresser drawers, she finally found the bright coral-colored tee and white shorts Sadie bought her for her birthday. She ripped off the tags and put them on, admiring herself in the bedroom mirror. The color gave her cheeks a rosy glow, and the shorts did wonders for her butt. And, for a change, there was a chance of someone other than her noticing both of those details.
She slipped on her tennis shoes and watched for her date out the kitchen window. A gentle breeze blew the leaves on the trees and sent puffy clouds sailing across the late June sky. Instead of Thomas’s limo, a sleek, topless black sports car growled into a guest parking space.
Shane unfolded himself from his car, looking wind-tossed and casual in a pair of plaid shorts and an olive shirt. Crickitt lapped up the sight of him as he strode to her door on long, strong legs leading down to a pair of sturdy leather sandals.