Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,50

again on the company’s name emblazoned over the receptionist’s head in oversized, metal letters: Rocket Enterprises.

I felt a stirring of pride for Nick. I could only imagine how fulfilling the sight must be for him each time he walked in that door and saw the empire he’d built from nothing. He’d been a young man who’d experienced significant struggles in his young life, and was now greeted by this sign upon entering this office on the top floor of one of Manhattan’s most prominent buildings.

Well. It had to leave him breathless; I certainly felt that way.

“I can find another space for you,” she said, “if that would make you more comfortable.” The receptionist blended in perfectly with the surroundings. Her flaxen hair was secured in a low French knot at the nape of her neck. Her skirt and blouse were professional yet fashionable, and her makeup had been applied with an expert hand. Taking in her strained smile, I finally read between the lines. She didn’t want me lounging in the lobby, if it could be avoided.

“If that’s easier . . .” I started to say. The door behind me opened.

“Mr. Rossi.” Her posture stiffened. “How nice to see you today.”

I turned to see Nick behind me, mouthwatering in a pair of dark jeans. His green polo shirt stretched across his wide shoulders. Abruptly, I found swallowing difficult, as if my tongue had suddenly grown three sizes in the space of that one moment.

His gaze moved slowly over me, no doubt taking in my summery, knee-length dress and matching yellow cardigan. I could find nothing to say as his eyes returned to my face.

“Hey, Samantha,” he said, finally moving the weight of his attention from my face to her.

I took a deep, silent breath, as my heart hammered an erratic rhythm. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been in the presence of truly delicious men before, and without all my body’s circuits misfiring. Maybe I needed to schedule some time with my Nimbus 2000 when I got home. It had to be my hormones making me crazy, right?

Right?

Samantha was explaining how she was in the process of directing me to another space when he glanced back at me, that half-smirk in place.

“Bored already? Trying to break out?

“Adesola’s got it covered. They’re role-playing now.”

One of his ink-black brows went up. “Role-playing?”

I bit my lip. It wasn’t suggestion, exactly, that colored his voice. But there was a quality of teasing I hadn’t expected. Mere days ago, I’d wanted to rip his head off, skewer him, cauterize his empty words and apologizes. Now a shocking parade of mental images filled my mind’s eye as I surveyed his tall, solid frame. We’d never done any role-playing. Hell, we’d been eighteen when we’d parted and still so enthralled with the newness of everything that game-playing hadn’t even occurred to us yet. But my imagination was in perfect working order now, likely fueled by my own personal drought. What kind of role playing would we have done, if we’d had time? Nick in UPS shorts, those muscled quads on full display. Or—

Jesus, Zora. You’re in public. Get ahold of yourself.

I came back to myself just in time to realize Nick had asked me something. I looked askance between him and Samantha, searching for context clues.

“Tour.” Nick’s mouth twitched, those clever evergreen eyes alight as though he guessed at the illicit thoughts cycling through my head. “I asked if you’d had one.”

Samantha looked between us, a new line between her brows.

“Oh.” It was, for some reason, a difficult question to answer. Forcibly, I suppressed my lurid thoughts and concentrated. “No.”

“Alright.” Nick’s hand went to his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

“Why?”

“Why don’t I take you on a short tour?”

“Uh . . . okay.”

“Great.” He inclined his head, indicating I should follow him, and I complied. I got one last glimpse of Samantha’s blank stare as we turned the corner.

“So,” I began, mentally kicking myself and my need to fill the silence. “This is a great office.”

Nick looked back at me as we made our way down the hall. Raised, excited voices sounded behind the conference room door I’d just exited a few moments prior.

“Our trainings are pretty interactive,” I said by way of explanation for the loud chatter, examining the framed photos interspersed along the walls. Some appeared to be staff photos, while others were early press releases chronicling Nick’s accomplishments. I paused in my progress, peering closely at a picture of a