He’s standing with his back to me, facing the window, one hand holding his phone up to his ear and the other running through his dark hair.
“This weekend sounds perfect,” he says, and my heart ties itself into a strangling knot. “I can’t wait to get my arms around you.”
Okay, now I’m just going to lose my lunch all over the ugly office carpeting. My fingers twitch with the urge to rip the phone out of his hands and shove it into the shredder. I try to set the coffee mug on his desk quietly and tiptoe out, but of course, Gavin turns. He probably has been watching my reflection in the glass.
Sorry, I mouth, still trying to make my escape. But he holds up a finger, asking me to wait.
“I’ve got to go. Love you too.”
He slides the phone back into his pocket, unaware that my heart just fell down an elevator shaft and is lying splattered on the concrete at the basement level.
“I made you coffee,” I tell him, but the words have a tone.
I never have a tone. Not with Gavin. This is my biggest slip-up in control ever, and it is not good. I sound angry and passive aggressive.
Gavin raises his brows and slowly walks toward me. Stalking would be a better word. “Something wrong, Zoey?” he asks.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
He stops a foot or two away, his eyes darting over my face, as though looking for a weak spot. A point of entry to get inside. But I am Alcatraz now. Unless Gavin buys a boat and has a set of keys, he’s not getting anywhere near my island.
“Positive.”
“Because it looks like something is on your mind. You know you can tell me anything.”
Oh, I’m just completely crushed that you have a girlfriend. One that you’re going to put your arms around this weekend. Someone you love.
I thought it was sort of painful working here every day, with Gavin just out of reach. I had no idea what pain was.
“Your conference call is starting in about forty-five seconds,” I say, turning on my heel to walk right out of his office, closing the door behind me.
When Gavin emerges from his office forty-five minutes later, I force my eyes to stay on the computer screen. I don’t need to look at him. Or the way he fills out his shirt now that he’s removed his jacket and holds it over one arm.
But of course, he stops right in front of my desk, just standing there. Finally, I glance up, seeing smile number six, the one where just one corner lifts, like he’s trying to hide his amusement. This is the most kissable smile. His girlfriend probably thinks so too.
“I’m headed out to check on Nancy,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
It’s not right that a man like him can be so handsome and also thoughtful. He should be cruel and cold, just to give us all a fighting chance at survival.
“I’m fine. Are you concerned at all about catching whatever she has?”
Gavin’s smile widens a bit. “I figure I’ve already been exposed. I’ve got a healthy immune system. I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern.”
Oh, I’m not concerned. I hope you get sick and stay home for the next two weeks. I’ll turn in my resignation to HR, and then I won’t have to see your stupid, handsome face ever again.
I look back at the computer screen. “Let me know if Nancy’s okay. I can cover for her tomorrow as well if she isn’t able to make it back.”
“I know you can. You’re very capable.”
The way he says capable sounds like something else. Like he means more than that.
Do not look up at him. Do not look up at him. Do not—I look up at him. And I’m immediately sorry.
His eyes are intense. They’re the color of my favorite kind of chocolate, Ferrero Rocher, the hazelnut chocolate balls that come wrapped in gold foil. I keep a stash in my desk, saved for my most desperate moments. And yes, different kinds of chocolate have different colors. Anyone who loves chocolate as much as I do understands this.
Gavin’s eyes are warm and delicious, and I could get completely addicted to the look he’s giving me.
Which is … what? What kind of look is this? It’s not the look a boss gives an employee. And it’s definitely not the kind of look that a man seeing the woman he loves this weekend should be giving anyone.