“Who’s—” I begin, but stop when I see the intruder. Eric.
“Pippa, what are you doing here?” he asks.
“I work here,” I reply, rising to my feet. “Why did you come? Did something happen to Julie?”
“No. She forgot some of her sketches here, and she wanted to work on them during the weekend.”
I inspect my desk, and sure enough, I find her sketches buried under my own.
“Here they are,” I announce. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have brought them tomorrow.”
“I didn’t think you were still here. Thanks.” His fingers touch mine as I hand him the sketches. I’ve been antsy for the past few hours, and the contact both calms and electrifies me at the same time. “Why are you here so late?”
“I stay up late sometimes. I have a lot of work, and I didn’t want to go home.” Pointing to the cupcakes near my keyboard, I infuse my voice with extra cheer as I add, “I have plenty of cupcakes to keep me company.”
Eric’s gaze holds mine for a few seconds, but it’s not a hot look; it’s a concerned one. He breaks eye contact, staring at my designs instead.
“You’re upset,” he says finally.
“How can you tell?”
“You said your designs vary according to your mood. These are dark. Scary.”
“These are scary? Not much of a horror movie man, I take it?”
“Nope,” he admits. “They scare the crap out of me. Always have. Want to tell me what’s wrong?” His voice is low and smooth, almost like a caress. It beckons me to open up to him. I debate brushing him off, but there is no reason to lie to him. Yes, he knows my brothers, but it’s unlikely he’ll tell them anything.
“Five years ago on this date, I married my ex. To fill you in, the reason behind our divorce was that I discovered he’d married me for my money.”
Eric raises his eyebrows, his expression unreadable. Then, to my utter astonishment, he gives me a thumbs-up.
“In that case, I’m surprised you’re taking out your feelings on your designs and not a voodoo doll or throwing darts at his picture.”
I chuckle, grateful for his reaction. No additional questions, no brooding. Just laughing. God, I can use some more of that right now.
“I should have taken my sister up on the offer of going on a girls’ night out instead of staying here by myself,” I admit. “But I didn’t want to worry anyone.”
Eric taps his fingers on my desk as if considering something. “Let’s you and I go out.”
“What?”
“You need a distraction. I’d like to provide that. Besides, I’d like to see a more adult version of San Francisco. Until now, I’ve only seen the twelve-year-old version.”
“How about Julie?”
“She’s asleep, and Ms. Blackwell is at the house with her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t overthink this, Pippa,” he says in a calm voice.
Oh, why the hell not? This man can make me laugh, and that’s exactly what I need. “Okay. Give me Julie’s sketches. I’ll carry them in my bag.”
“What do you want to do?” he asks.
“I want to dance,” I tell him. “But no weird fifties music.” I hold up my forefinger, accentuating every word with a swing. Eric looks on the verge of bursting out laughing.
“Why, you’re wearing inappropriate underwear again?”