Stepping out of my office, I turned left to head to the kitchen before realizing that I’d gone the wrong way. I stopped and started to walk in the other direction. Only, I hadn’t looked where I was going first. On the second step, I crashed right into someone.
I fumbled the vase in my hands as I rebounded off a hard chest. I’d almost made it, almost steadied myself back upright and avoided dropping the product of my entire weekend. But then I made the mistake of looking up at the person I’d collided with. The vase slipped from my hands, right before I went down on my ass.
What the . . .
The man sank down in front of me. “Are you alright?”
I could only blink in response, stunned into silence amid shattered ceramic pieces.
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He looked so different without the scowl on his face that it made me wonder if perhaps I was mistaken—perhaps it was just a man who looked eerily similar. Until he got a good look at me. A slow and wicked smile crossed his handsome face.
There was no mistake. The man that sucked the breath from my body a second time . . . was definitely Reed Eastwood.CHAPTER 6
REED
Blinking my eyes wasn’t working. She was still here. I wasn’t seeing things.
It was really her.
In my place of business.
That platinum-blonde hair.
Those icy-blue eyes.
Nordic Barbie from the other day—Charlotte Darling—was flat on her ass before me, looking scared, like she’d seen a ghost. I stood, extended my hand, and helped her up.
If I scare her so much, why does she continue to stalk me?
There wasn’t much time to think before the words exited my mouth. “Are you taking your show on the road, Miss Darling? I don’t recall buying tickets to Crazytown. What are you doing here?”
“I . . . ugh . . .” She shook her head as if coming out of a daze and placed her hand on her chest. “Reed . . . Eastwood. What are you doing here?”
What kind of a game is she playing?
“You’re asking me what I am doing at my own company? Who let you into my offices?”
Seeming flustered, she looked down and adjusted her skirt. “I work here.”
She what?
My blood was pumping.
Even though I’d let her come to that penthouse appointment to berate her for playing games and wasting my time, afterward I’d regretted acting so harshly. But she was totally justifying how I’d acted.
“You know, I actually felt a little sorry for you when you stormed out of the Millennium upset the other day. But your coming here is out of line. How did you get through security?”
My mention of the S word triggered something in her. The same woman who had been cowering a few seconds ago straightened her body and glared at me. I should’ve remembered from last time that the one sure way to get her to snap was to mention security.
Leaning in, she raised her voice. “Stop threatening to call security on me. Did you not hear me say that I work here?”
The smell of something sweet on her breath made me lose my train of thought for a brief moment. Glazed doughnut, maybe. I was quickly snapped out of that momentary loss of focus when she closed her eyes and began moving her fingers frantically as if she were . . . typing. Actually, that’s exactly what she was doing—typing something in the air.
I had to ask. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
She continued the motion as she spoke. “I’m typing all the things I really want to say to you, to get it all out without actually having to say the words. Trust me, this is what’s best for both of us.” Her fingers kept moving.
I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath. “You’d rather look like a complete spaz than say what’s on your mind?”
She finally stopped moving her fingers. “Yes.”
“Did you remember to hit ‘Send’?” I mocked.
Charlotte didn’t find my sarcasm funny.
“Telling you what I was thinking would have been unprofessional. I don’t want to risk losing my job on the very first day.”
“I see you learned a lot about professionalism during your time at Deez Nuts.”
“Screw you.”
“Whoa. Someone needs a ‘Backspace’ key.”
Jesus. Now I was actually enjoying messing with her—engaging the crazy. I needed to remind myself that she was trespassing.
“Tell me again how you got in here, Miss Darling? Because you sure as hell don’t work here. This is my company. I can assure you I would’ve noticed if I’d hired you.”
My grandmother appeared and interrupted, “Technically, it’s my company.” She turned to Charlotte. “I apologize for my grandson’s behavior.”
“Grandson?” Charlotte pointed her index finger while looking back and forth between my grandmother and me. “He . . . is your grandson? That’s . . . that’s the guy I told you about in the bathroom that day—the pretentious asshole Realtor!”