CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 24

NEENA

The chicken was missing its left drumstick. At the open door to the oven, I glared at the one-legged bird, then turned my head and cursed Matt’s name. He continued rummaging through the fridge, unperturbed by my yell.

“Honestly, I’m going to kill you.” I slammed the oven shut and opened the lid to the garbage, immediately spotting the evidence, half-wrapped in a dirty paper towel.

He pulled out a container of yogurt and peeled back the top, ignoring me.

“You know I like dark meat,” I complained, forcing the lid back on the trash and cursing when it didn’t fit correctly.

Of course he knew. I always claimed the drumsticks and thighs. He’d probably eaten it out of spite over my refusal to add some NFL package to our cable account.

“The chicken’s not even done yet. It still has another twenty minutes to cook.” Maybe he’d get salmonella and die. I’d have his five-million-dollar insurance policy and no more headaches. I warmed to the idea and, for not the first time in our marriage, added it to the list of potential retirement scenarios.

Moving back to my prep of the broccoli-cheese bake, I paused at the sound of my phone, buzzing by the mixer bowl. Licking a chunk of cheese off the tip of my finger, I grabbed the cell.

I had to come back early. Don’t be alarmed if you see lights on over here.

I stared at William’s text. He’d had to come back? Had he left her there? I thought of Cat’s smug announcement that they’d be in Hawaii getting some “alone time” for her birthday. Ha! She’d probably stuck birthday candles into a heap of solitude. I leaned against the counter and texted him back.

Me: When’d you get back?

William: Yesterday, but I’ve been at the office nonstop.

Me: Everything okay? Can I bring you some food?

“That’s the smile I love.” Matt rounded the corner, coming up beside me and pulling me into a hug. I held the phone out of harm’s way and gave him a quick kiss. “What, did you find the perfect recipe?”

“No, just got a text from an employee. A breakthrough with the device.” I slipped the cell phone in my back pocket and smiled at him. I could invite William to eat with us, but where would the fun be in that? His attention would be on Matt, and while I was turned on by their close union, I was starting to think that their friendship might slow my progress with William.

And I needed that progress. My focus on him had increased tenfold with Cat’s recent betrayal, delivered on wine charity–board stationery this Monday. We regret to inform you . . .

As if they were a fucking Ivy League school. A bunch of lacrosse moms and Ambien addicts, that’s all they were. I could have brought intelligence to the group. I was a doctor. They should have waved me through, no questions asked.

But I hadn’t even made it to the reduced list of finalists who’d received board interviews. My friendship with Cat should have gotten me that, even if I didn’t have any other strengths in my favor.

It was clear that she’d sabotaged it. She didn’t want me on there and had slashed through my name with one perfectly manicured nail. I’d let her know how important it was to me. I’d even offered to reduce my interactions with William, but she hadn’t cared. Selfish, that’s what she was. Selfish and shortsighted.

Cat had done more than remove me from the candidate pool. She’d drawn a battle line in the sand and added a new incentive for my seduction of William.

“Go sit down.” I pointed to Matt’s recliner, a revolting piece of his-and-her furniture I had lost the battle over. The ugly thing was annoyingly comfortable, its siren call almost soothing on long days. “If you distract me, I’ll burn everything out of spite.”

His grin crooked up, revealing the chipped tooth from a sixth-grade fistfight. “And mar your perfect culinary record? You wouldn’t dare.”

It was sweet how much he loved me. I’d wager to say he loved me even more than William loved Cat. She thought she was queen, but her castle was made of sand. One perfectly timed blonde wave and . . . whoosh. Slow erosion at first, then a cascade.

The phone buzzed against my butt cheek. Watching Matt sidle over to his chair, I fished out the phone and checked the text.

I wouldn’t be able to eat it. I’ll be at the office until I pick up Cat from the airport around midnight. But thanks.

I knew what he wanted, the hints practically painted across a billboard. I typed one-handed as I dumped the shredded cheese over the broccoli spears.

I have to run into Palo Alto on an errand anyway. I’ll drop by a plate in a few hours, assuming it’s not a bother.

This would be perfect. Late night. The empty office. The two of us, paper plates in hand, enjoying each other’s company. It was an opening, and I’d be an idiot not to take it.

Not a bother at all. See you then.

I smiled and turned up the oven’s heat.

“So, their revenue was fabricated?” Two hours later, I perched on the edge of the private boardroom table and watched as William dived into my food, his enjoyment clear. I watched as his throat flexed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He hadn’t shaved in a week, his skin was tan from his time in Hawaii, and he was overdue for a haircut. The end result was addictive, his wild edges only enhancing his chiseled good looks. His intelligence, the power, and the looks . . . I leaned closer, unable to maintain a respectable distance.

“At least part of it. I’m having to rework the deal with the data we can verify and see if there is still profit to be made.”

“And if there’s not?” I pushed off the table and picked up his empty bottle.

He watched as I moved to the minifridge to get him another water. “Then I walk. This was an opportunity to expand our footprint, but it wasn’t necessary. I won’t risk everything on an unknown.”

I won’t risk everything on an unknown.I glanced at him. Was there a hidden meaning in the words, or had he just given me an unintended peek into the inner workings of his mind? Maybe he considered me a wild card, one with an unknown reaction if he made a move.

It was interesting to see the evolution in him over the last two months. He used to flinch when I touched him, and avoid prolonged eye contact. Vomited Cat’s name whenever the conversation turned away from work. Now, I noticed his eyes lingering on me, his gaze warmer when he smiled, his tongue looser to confess. He didn’t bring her up very often, and when he did, he rarely used her name. All tells. Little tiny arrows pointing in the right direction.

I bent at the waist over the low minifridge, keeping my legs straight, my butt out. “You don’t seem to want to walk away from the deal.”

“I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be back here crunching the numbers. I’d be screwing my wife on a beach in Hawaii.”

I straightened and came closer, pausing just before him, the crude reference spiking my competitive arousal. “But instead you’re here.”

“Yes.” His eyes lifted to me. “With you.”

With me.

He reached for the bottle, and his fingers brushed against mine as I released it. William Winthorpe was an alpha male, one who enjoyed the chase, and I’d fostered that challenge in every way I could. A flirtatious look countered with a small insult. A casual touch followed by a mention of my husband.

Sometimes I wondered if he was doing the same thing with me. A compliment on my dress, a long kiss with his wife. Quick responses to my morning texts but nothing late at night. If it was a game, it was one he played very well and seemed to enjoy. I smiled at him and could feel the lines of our relationship blurring.

Neighbors. Boss. Employee. Friends.

We were circling each other, each rotation growing closer, and was this the moment? Our eyes met, and he stood. “Why did you really come here, Neena?”

“You’re hungry,” I said quietly, not stepping back, our proximity already too close to be professional. Around us, the empty building lay dormant and silent.

He set his water on the conference table and reached out, his fingertips settling on my waist and tugging me forward until I was flush against him, my thighs to his, hip to hip, the warmth of him branded along my body. This was it. His hand slid up my back and twisted around the length of my hair, tugging it back until my chin was lifted, my face turned up to his. It was happening. His gaze dropped to my mouth. I held my breath.

And then . . . he lowered his mouth, and his lips met mine. A soft brush, the hair around his mouth tickling mine. A second kiss, this one deeper, our lips parting, his tongue meeting mine. His mouth was warm, his kiss tender, almost hesitant. The great William Winthorpe in a moment of moral indecision. I pulled at the back of his head, strengthening our kiss, and he responded, pushing me back until I hit the wall of the conference room, his hands exploring and gripping—

He pulled away, his hands raised as if protesting his innocence. I sagged against the wall, my footing uncertain, and waited, my lips tingling from the contact.

“That shouldn’t have happened.” He turned and rested his palms on the table, his strong shoulders hunched over. One hand shot out, a quick movement that startled me, and the water bottle flew across the room and bounced off the wall. He cursed. “You need to go.”

“I—ah.” I struggled to find the right thing to say. “It’s okay, William. No one will ever know.”

“Go,” he bit out.

I crouched, picking up my bag, and hurried out of the chilly room, my flats tapping softly along the floor until I reached the elevator, my ears pricked for the sound of his call.

It never came, but it didn’t matter. I had felt the electricity between us, the passion, the surge of his need. This wasn’t the end—it was the beginning, the blurring of lines between professional and friendly, appropriate and not.

Blurred lines. Smear enough of them together, and you could change the color of everything.

His marriage.

My life.

Everything.