"Good, but I'm not talking about hangovers." She waves a finger toward my face. "You have bags under your eyes, and that's a new suit from Sheri Ann's boutique. She's a friend, and I know what she keeps in stock. And the price tag is hanging from your armpit."
Is it? I lift my arm, and yes, the tag is hanging there. Damn. Isn't that just my luck? Raisa knows the woman who owns the boutique where Chance bought me a new outfit. I hope Sheri Ann didn't recognize Chance. I mean, if Raisa bought clothes there...
She's studying me again, like she knows I've done something but can't quite put her finger on it.
"If that's all," I say, "I should get these summaries to Chance."
"Not yet." She swivels her chair side to side. "You've let me down, Elena. I asked you to do one simple thing---find out who Chance is sleeping with---and you failed."
"I'm sorry."
She puckers her lips again, steepling her index fingers under her chin. "Never mind. I'll find out on my own. You're dismissed."
And of course, she waves her hand to indicate I should leave.
I've just shut the door behind me, intending to head for Chance's office, when a strange noise inside Raisa's office makes me stop. I tip my head to the side, listening. It almost sounds like crying. Sniffling, for sure.
Oh God, she's upset. About Chance dating someone else.
Which means her tears are my fault.
Feeling like the slimiest, wartiest toad on the planet, I go to Chance's office and shut the door behind me when I get there. I set the folder on his desk. "She's not giving up. I've been fired from being her little spy, but Raisa says she'll figure out on her own who you're sleeping with."
"She's bluffing. Lawyers are good at that."
"After I closed the door to her office, I heard Raisa crying."
He goes stiff, his unblinking gaze nailed to mine. "Crying?"
I nod.
"Shit." He runs a hand over his mouth. "I can't help that. What am I meant to do? Take her back so she won't feel bad?"
"No, of course not. But maybe we shouldn't---"
He surges up from his chair and slants over the desk to kiss me. His mouth lingers on mine for a moment, a long and blissful moment of feeling his warm lips and tasting a hint of the tea from the mug that sits on his desk. Though he peels his lips away, he doesn't move back. He stays there, an inch from my face, his sapphire eyes gazing into mine, and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear with one finger.
I try again to say something but manage to speak only one syllable. "Chance---"
Then he kisses me again, fervently, pulling back only enough to speak. His lips graze mine. "I'm sorry Raisa is upset, but she made a mess of things when we were married. She doesn't get to play the victim now. I want you in my life, Elena. We're not doing anything wrong."
"The firm's policy says coworkers who start dating have to report it to Raisa. I don't want to tell her, but my damn conscience kicked in this morning."
"We will tell her, once she calms down. The policy gives us thirty days, remember?"
"She seemed pretty damn calm when she told me I'd failed her and that she'll figure out on her own who you're sleeping with."
"And then she cried." He drags the backs of his fingers down my cheek. "I just told her I'm seeing someone. Let her digest that information before we tell her the rest."
It makes sense. But I have an annoying habit of being the good girl who follows the rules to the letter, sometimes going beyond what's required in my zeal to do the right thing. Maybe this once I cannotbe that girl. Waiting until we find out for sure if we really want to date seems like the smart thing to do. What if after a few more days we realize we're not right for each other?
Sorry excuses, I know.
But Chance is kissing me again, and all thoughts zip out of my brain, flying off into the sky.
He steps back and settles onto his chair. "I suppose we should discuss those summaries."
For a second, I can't remember what the hell he's talking about. Then the knowledge surfaces in my hormone-addled brain, and I hand him the folder and sit down.