I shake my head and mouth, “Starving.” My stomach echoes the sentiment with a long growl. Jack nods, holding up that single finger again before retreating to his desk.
What happens after that is a bit of a blur, but the next thing I know, I’m sitting on the floor outside his office and Jack is shaking me awake with a worried frown. “Ellie? Jesus, are you okay? You scared me.”
“What happened?” I ask, head spinning as I focus on Jack’s face.
“You slid down the wall.” His fingers curl around the back of my neck in a way that makes me even more lightheaded. “I think you passed out. Did you eat anything at all today?”
I smack my lips a couple times, trying to remember. “Not since breakfast.”
Jack scowls. “Why not? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that pimento cheese is vile, and the snack machine wouldn’t take my card.” I frown back at him. “I’m used to working right next to my fridge. It’s a learning curve.”
He shakes his head with a sigh. “And you’re not used to working for a slave driver who keeps you at the office all night. This is my fault. Come on. We’re getting you food. Stat.”
“But what about—”
“I can access the company database from my place. We’ll get Chinese to go, make sure you have enough fuel to keep from passing out, and I’ll print the records for you before you head home.” I start to protest, but Jack cuts me off with a hand held in the air. “I insist. I’m not sending you out into the streets like this. If you pass out on a subway platform and something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I shudder. “I have nightmares about passing out on the subway platform and smelling like pee for the rest of my life.”
Jack cracks up, the sound of it filling me with longing. “All the more reason you’re coming home with me. My apartment is a pee-free zone. At least the, uh… Okay, not sure where I was going with that.” He offers his hand to help me up, his smile tentative. “So. You, me, Chinese, files?”
“Okay.” I try to ignore the warmth filling my chest. But by the time Jack helps me to my feet, keeping his arm around me as he leads the way to my desk to fetch my briefcase, the warmth has spread.
And the reason for the warmth is Jack’s touch and his concern and the way he stays close as we hit the street, clearly not caring what any passersby might think of him having his hand on another man’s back. The reason is the supersize crush I’m developing, which only gets worse when Jack proceeds to order an obscene amount of Chinese food in the name of “giving me leftovers to take to work tomorrow.”
A man who kisses like the world’s about to end, is amazing in a crisis,andis serious about making sure I’m fed?
Be still my beating heart…
But it won’t be still. That’s my problem, and the reason I should take my food and go home—do not go up to his place, do not risk being alone with Jack again.
Instead, I let him hold the door open for me and follow him to his elevator because some things—like men as smart, thoughtful, and drop-dead sexy as Jack Holt—are impossible to resist.
CHAPTER 9
Jack
Day 6 Monday 8/6
“This view is incredible!” Ellie leans close to the floor-to-ceiling window in my living room, peering out across the city. De-mustached and makeup free, she’s dressed in one of my well-worn Harvard sweatshirts and a pair of basketball shorts about five sizes too big on her, but it’s the best I could offer, considering she was dying to get out of her man-suit and I don’t keep a stash of ladies’ clothes on hand.
I’m not gonna lie. Seeing Ellie in my clothes, knowing there’s nothing between the fabric and her skin? That image will get me through more than a few lonely nights.
“If I lived here,” she says, still gazing out the window, “I’d never leave this spot. You’d have to hire a maid to dust and water me once in a while. It’s that beautiful. Don’t you think?”
The sun went down an hour ago, leaving the glass and steel of Manhattan bathed in a muted glow. But I’m not looking at the buildings or the pink sky or the latticework of roadways below. Not anymore.
Yes, I appreciate the view my open-plan penthouse apartment affords. It’s glorious day or night, summer or winter, rain or shine.
But it doesn’t compare to the view tonight, the warm light shimmering in Ellie’s dark-chocolate hair, the endless sounds of the city muffled by the glass and the funky jazz playlist drifting from my speakers.
“Beautiful,” I say softly. I hold up her coffee mug, steam curling from the surface. “Dash of cream, teaspoon of sugar, yes?”
Ellie smiles, my reward for getting her coffee order right, and I hand over the mug.
Dinner was easier. We were both starving, she was still mustached and manly, and we dogged the Chinese takeout straight from the containers, barely stopping for air.