I actually make it to work early today, much to my relief and—I think—Maryanne’s annoyance. Which only makes me more determined to do everything right. Ethan’s words still echo in my head, his belief that I really am the best person to head this research. I don’t think there’s any reason for him to lie, not about this, so I’ve decided I’m going to believe him. I’m going to do my job and do it well and not let anything else get to me.
For most of the morning I make a good run of it. I finish up the loose ends on the case I was working late on last night, then blow through questions about three more cases. It’s interesting stuff, too—at least to me. I love researching, love the hunt for the answers and all the new things I learn when I’m looking for those answers. And what I love most of all is the guarantee that the answers are out there. The fact that all I have to do is look hard and long enough and I’ll find out what I need to know.
I wish life were like that. More orderly. More assured. I think about all the things I’d like answers to—not just guesses or hopes or best estimates, but guaranteed, quantifiable answers. Like whether or not I should mail that stupid box to Ethan. Or if getting involved with him is a bad idea.
I work through my break, and when lunch comes around I try to ignore the fact that all the interns head down to the cafeteria together—and that they very definitely exclude me. I tell myself not to let it get to me, that the best thing I can do is just do my job well and not worry about anything else. But it’s one of those things that’s easy to say and not so easy to do.
Still, it isn’t like I could go with them anyway. I have that damn box to send. Which I do, with my fingers and toes crossed that I’m making the right decision. But the whole box-sending thing only takes ten minutes, which means I have fifty minutes to kill. And since I’m hungry—and broke—I decide it’s the cafeteria for me again. Even if it means dealing with the shade Rick and the other interns will throw at me.
I can’t help glancing over at the juice bar when I walk in, but of course Ethan’s not there today. I think of how he was dressed yesterday, in his full-on Armani suit, and wonder for the millionth time what he was doing working the juice bar on my first day. I can’t help wondering if it was fate, or some darker force at work. Either way, I’m afraid that that one meeting is going to change my life in ways I never expected.
As soon as the thought occurs to me, I feel completely melodramatic. Yes, I’m attracted to him. Yes, he’s obviously attracted to me. And yes, today I did something about that attraction. Where this thing is going to end up, I don’t have a clue. But thinking that it might actually change my life is absurd.
Isn’t it?
Deciding against a smoothie, because it just won’t be the same if Ethan’s not there making sure they add exactly seven strawberries to the blender, I grab a sandwich and some fruit. I think about taking it back up to my desk, but the sad fact of the matter is that I don’t want to give the other interns the satisfaction of thinking they made me turn tail and run. They’re sitting a few tables away from me and I know they’ve noticed me. I can feel Rick’s eyes raking down my back as I look for an empty table.
As we’re in the middle of the lunch hour rush, there aren’t any completely empty tables, so I grab an open seat at the first one I come to. Not until after I put down my tray do I realize I’ve sat down in the middle of a table of guys not much older than I am.
As the three closest ones turn to look at me, I do my best to control the blush creeping up my cheeks. “I’m sorry. Is this seat taken?”
“Not at all,” the blond one tells me. He’s got a British accent and a cheeky grin that I can’t help responding to. “We’re just not used to beautiful women plopping themselves down in the middle of our conversation without any warning. ”
“I can leave,” I tell him. “Try to give you a little more warning the second time around. ”
“That won’t be necessary,” one of his dark-haired friends assures me as he extends his hand. “I’m Zayn. ”
“I’m Chloe. ”
“It’s nice to meet you, Chloe. ” Zayn grins at me.
“I’m Austin,” the blond one says.
“And I’m Ro,” the third one adds. They’re all good-looking, but he’s definitely the best-looking of the bunch. With his chiseled cheekbones, shaggy black hair, and dark, soulful eyes, he’d look as much at home on the cover of a magazine as he does here. Maybe even more so.
“Ro?” I ask, wanting to make sure I get his name right.
He sighs while the other two guys cackle. “His mama named him Romeo,” Austin tells me in his very proper English. “But he refuses to let anyone call him that. ”
I raise my brows at him, but he just shrugs. “It’s a lot of name to live up to. ”
“Or down to,” I say. “He was a spoiled fourteen-year-old brat way too used to getting his own way. ”
“See!” Ro slaps the table hard. “That’s what I’ve been telling these guys for the past two weeks, but they insist on calling me Romeo. It’s obnoxious. ”
“Are you kidding? It totally gives you a great opening with the ladies,” Austin protests. “Your name has swagger, dude. You should embrace it. ”
“If by swagger you mean it invites women to think of me as an adolescent douche bag with a death wish. One who’ll ask them to commit suicide before the week is out. ”
“Hey, I hear whiny-ass adolescents are very big right now,” Zayn says with another huge smile. I grin back at him—I can’t help it. The guy’s personality is totally infectious. “Justin Bieber certainly doesn’t seem to be having any trouble getting women. ”
Ro glares at him through narrowed eyes. “You did not just compare me to Justin Bieber. ”
“I’m sorry. ” Zayn holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I know the similarities are a sore spot. I’ll lay off until you’re in better mental health. ”
“I’ll be in better mental health if I can shove my fist down your throat. ”
“Temper, temper,” Austin tsks. “Didn’t you read the new-employee package? Frost Industries frowns on violence. ”