CHAPTER THIRTY
“Heather?” Noah called from the living room as she walked through the apartment door.
Heather winced. She’d been hoping Noah would be working late, as he often did, and that she’d have time for a hot bath before he got home. “Yup, it’s me.” Disappointed? she wondered. Maybe hoping it was someone else?
“Where’ve you been?” Noah poked his head into the hallway. “It’s late.”
“Is it?” She made a show of checking her watch. He was right. It was almost seven thirty.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked again.
“It’s just been one of those days,” she said, silently berating herself for not having prepared an alibi on the tedious drive home.
“Tell me,” he said, approaching and taking her hand, guiding her into the living room.
What’s going on?she wondered, as he sank down beside her on the sofa, still holding tight to her hand. Had Matt phoned him and boasted of their tryst? Was this sudden interest in her day part of some elaborate ruse, a prelude to his tossing her out on her sore back? “Well, I told you that Marsha Buchanan has been giving me a hard time lately…”
He nodded, waited for her to continue.
Which wasdefinitelynot the Noah she’d come to expect. That Noah was always interrupting her, correcting her, telling her to speed things up, that he didn’t need to hear every trivial little detail.
“Well,” she continued, “she’s called for a performance review on Monday, which means if I don’t shape up, I’ll probably lose my job.”
A look of genuine concern settled on Noah’s handsome face.
Not that he was anywhere near as good-looking as Matt, Heather thought. But then, few men were. Few men were as arrogant either.
“I didn’t realize things were that bad.”
“She picks on me for every little thing,” Heather elaborated, warming to her subject. “Honestly, I don’t know what her problem is. I think she’s just jealous or something.”
“So, what’d she pick on today?”
“Same old crap. We have another presentation tomorrow, so I thought I’d better stay late, make sure everything was ready. I even had to cancel my hair appointment.” She motioned vaguely in the direction of her head, hoping this little ad lib would be enough to keep him from questioning what had happened to her hair.
Noah’s hand reached up to tuck some stray strands behind one ear. “Looks nice,” he said.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does,” he insisted. “It’s sexy.”
Why was he being so nice to her? Heather wondered. Was he setting her up?
“What else?” he asked.
“Else?”
“You look like you’ve been crying.”
Shit,Heather thought. When had he become so observant? Or she, so transparent? “I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed, I guess.”
He drew her back against the pillows, began planting soft kisses along the side of her neck.
You’ve got to be kidding me,Heather thought.Tonight? Of all nights?
“You smell so good,” he said.
Seriously?She felt his hand on her breast.Good God!She jumped to her feet.