Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Tuesday

REAGAN SMILED TO herself the following morning as she waited in the elevator, balancing a tray of coffee cups in her hand. She’d decided to take Crystal’s advice and lighten things up a bit. So she’d kind of fallen for a guy she used to know. Big deal. And so what if he’d given her the most earth-shattering orgasms ever. So did her vibrator. Sometimes.

Deciding to call a truce, she’d stopped at Starbucks and made sure she had her permanent marker handy. Which was the reason for her smile.

When the elevator doors opened, she waved at Amy and headed straight for Evan’s office. The light was already on, and she peered around the corner. Leaning against the wall, she watched him silently. He was sitting at his desk with the work phone to his ear and jotting something down in a notebook. His jacket was already off, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled halfway up his tanned, muscular arms.

Just another guy, Reagan thought. Just another supremely gorgeous human. Nothing special there.

Evan hung up the phone and tossed his pen on the desk. “Can I help you, Reagan?” he asked, swiveling in his chair to face her, his eyes meeting hers.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked as she pushed away from the wall and entered his office. Her hips might’ve been swaying more than usual, but that wasn’t on purpose. Riiiight.

“I can always feel your eyes on me.”

Reagan lifted an eyebrow and tried not to read too much into that.

“That and I could smell you.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head before winking at her.

She stopped in her tracks. “By smell me, I hope you mean this delicious coffee I brought you.”

“Oh, is that for me?” Evan reached across the desk for his cup, but Reagan held the tray out up high.

“On second thought, Amy looked a little thirsty this morning.”

As she turned on her heel to leave, Evan said, “I meant that as a compliment, you know. You always smell so fucking delicious.”

When she swiveled back to face him, he leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “You really should stop wearing that. It could attract unwanted attention.”

“So sweet of you to be concerned about my well-being.”

“I wasn’t. I was concerned for mine.”

Charming motherfucker. Get out. Get out now.

Reagan placed the steaming cup of coffee on his desk. “Have a good day, Mr. James.” As she walked out of the office, she couldn’t stop her damn hips from swaying again. She’d blame it on the tight fit of the pencil skirt she wore, but really, it was because his eyes were on her.

She could feel them.

* * *

EVAN COULDN’T TEAR his eyes away from Reagan’s pert ass as it swished its way out of his office. Hot damn, she has one spectacular rear end. And he should know; he’d seen it bent over and naked on more than one occasion. But this morning he couldn’t help but think the swaying of Reagan’s hips, and the coffee she’d deposited on his desk, held a lot more meaning than a flirtatious morning hello.

It felt as if she was calling a truce. Waving a white flag and saying everything was okay between them after the conference room incident, not to mention the shitstorm that had led up to that. She seemed willing to let go of what had transpired between them, and if she could be mature enough not to hold a grudge, then so could he.

Lifting the coffee cup to his lips, he sat back in his chair and took a careful sip. The bitter taste of the darkest possible roast hit his tongue. Perfection. When he placed the coffee cup back down on the desk, the sleeve slipped to the bottom of the cup. And there, in permanent marker, bold as you please, were the words:

Evan’s mouth fell open at the smartass message, and as the words and the contents of the cup registered, he found his lips tipping up in a grin. That sneaky little wench.So she wants to play that game, does she. Well, that was fine by him. After all, he’d been the one to invent it.

Bring it on, Ms. Spencer. Bring. It. On.

Wednesday

EVAN DASHED THROUGH the front doors of the building that housed Kelman Corporations the next morning, with a tray of coffee in his hands. A security guard gave him a warm smile as she held one side open for him, and he greeted her with a good morning and a quick wink as he stepped through. He’d made sure to arrive early, just as he had been for the last couple of days. He wanted to get upstairs and into Reagan’s office before the little minx arrived.

When the elevator hit their floor, he bypassed the empty reception desk, Amy not having arrived yet. He held the tray in one hand and fished around in his pocket for the key Bill had given him to the office. Once he’d let himself in, he made his way down the hall and went directly into Ms. Spencer’s immaculate place of work. He glanced at the bright red couch that lined the wall and remembered the first day she’d interviewed him.

That felt like years ago, not months. She’d been so cool that day, going over the facts and figures of his job as if she barely knew him. Keeping him at arm’s length. But little did he know just how well she’d known him after all. What a twist of fate.

Pulling himself out of his daydream, he crossed her office and placed a coffee on her desk and then dug into his pocket and pulled out two packets of sugar. He placed them down next to the cup and smiled to himself as he backed out.

Oh yes, Reagan, two can play this game.

* * *

“ALLENDALE HAD GREAT things to say about you and Evan,” Bill said from where he sat across from Reagan in her office.

She raised her brow. “Is that right?”

“Why do you look surprised?”

“No reason.” Other than the eventual hate-fucking that took place five minutes after they’d left.

“They said they’d have a decision made within the next few days and will let you know.”

“Good, good.” Reagan nodded. “We’ll be ready for them.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Bill said. Then he shifted forward in his seat, and Reagan inwardly groaned. He always assumed that position when he was about to say something serious. Something about Evan, no doubt.

“So, I noticed things aren’t quite as…heavy around the office this week,” he began.

Bingo.

“We’re all professionals here,” she said. “No reason to drag our personal lives into the workplace, right?”

Bill cocked his head to the side and gave her a look that said he didn’t buy that for a second. Smart guy.

She held up her hands. “All right, fine. No more bullshit. Things got messy, and that was entirely my fault. I never expected to get involved with Evan, so for that, I apologize. You don’t have to worry about any repeats, I promise.”

“Reagan,” Bill said, and then shook his head. He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “You’re like a daughter to me, you know that—”

“I do, and that’s why I’m sorry—”

“I wasn’t finished,” he told her, and she clamped her mouth shut. “I only want the best for you. I don’t like to see you upset or in pain. Now, I don’t know the specifics of what happened between you and Evan, and I don’t need to. I know his past. I know there’s more to the story, and I know the man has been through more than most people should.”

Reagan narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to say, Bill?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You’ve always been a spark of a thing. And I think…maybe…that’s helped him…” His voice trailed off, and he didn’t need to say any more.

In his own way, Bill was giving her permission to try again with Evan—if she wanted it.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Bill raised a fist to his mouth and coughed a little, shifting in his seat. Then he eyed the unopened sugar packets on her desk. “Since when do you put sugar in your coffee?” he asked, clearly deciding now was the time to change the subject.

Since Evan put a coffee cup on my desk this morning stating:

Asshole.

But as she thought about his message, she couldn’t help the giddy feeling that accompanied it. He was playing with her, and if there was one thing Evan James was good at, it was playing you until he won. And she had to admit, she didn’t mind giving the victor the spoils when it came to him.

Thursday

DEAR MS. SPENCER,

I was disappointed to come into a caffeine-free zone this morning. But in case you feel inclined to rectify the situation, I’ll have my “usual” order. Make it a large.

Evan James

Dear Mr. James,

My, my, aren’t you presumptuous this morning? Your usual? As in the tar you enjoy in place of an actual coffee? Perhaps I can swing by and drop off the sugar you left for me. They weren’t needed, you see, since I’m sweet enough already. Or maybe you’ve forgotten and need to have another taste…

Ms. Reagan Spencer

P.S. As for the size of your…coffee—I never had any doubt ;)

Dear Ms. Spencer,

Are you fucking serious?????

Evan James

Dear Mr. James,

About which part?

Ms. Reagan Spencer

Not five seconds after she’d hit send, her phone rang, and she leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. She had a feeling whatever was about to come might make her…squirm.

She picked up the receiver, and as soon as it was by her ear, her lips quirked into a wicked smirk. “Reagan here.”

“I would appreciate very much if you would stop sending such inappropriate emails.”

Evan’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and she moved her hand up to stroke her fingers over her pearls only to notice… Fuck, where are they? She jerked up in her chair. “Shit.”

“Exactly,” Evan said through the phone.

“No, no…” she said, slightly frantic as she looked around the floor, having completely forgotten about flirting with Evan.

“Reagan? What’s the matter?” he asked, sensing her panic now that the line had gone silent.

“My pearls. I’ve lost my damn pearls,” she told him, her breath coming a little harder as she bent at the waist to look under her desk. When Evan’s low laugh came through the phone, she almost gave in to the urge to slam the receiver back on its holder. She didn’t need him laughing at her. This was serious shit. Her mother had given her that necklace.

“Reagan?”

“Hmm…” she said absently.

“Your pearls. They’re sitting on my nightstand at home.”

Wait…what? She sat up in her chair and blew her hair off her forehead. “What do you mean they’re at your home?”

He chuckled through the line and then told her in a voice that practically reignited the heat between her thighs, “They fell off your neck when I fucked you over the conference table.”

Her mouth fell open and her pussy throbbed. Well, damn. I asked.

“Oh, and Reagan…”

She swallowed and closed her eyes at the silky caress of his voice. “Yeah.”

“If you want them, you can come fucking get them.”

As the phone went dead, she stared at it and had two thoughts. One, Evan James was trouble with a capital fucking T. And two, there was nothing on the planet that was going to stop her from going and getting her pearls back.