Like a Boss - Annabelle Costa Page 0,5

blatantly stare at him, trying to figure it out. Is he using a wheelchair because he broke his leg skiing in Vail? But no, I don’t see a cast. And there’s something about the chair and the way he’s sitting in it that makes me think this isn’t a broken leg. This is a forever kind of thing. The chair is too sleek, the wheels are too worn, and he looks too comfortable in it.

I brace myself, sensing an uncomfortable situation coming on. If he recognizes me, what should I say? Do I ask the question that’s running through my head?

Luke, what the hell happened to you?

No, I can’t ask that. And I can’t tell him how good he looks. He probably hates that patronizing shit.

Luke lifts his eyes, and they lock with mine. There isn’t even a glimmer of recognition. He has no clue who I am. And I prefer to keep it that way.

“Eleanor Jensen?” he asks. His voice has changed too. It’s harder, colder. The voice of a ruthless businessman. Someone who’s going to fire us all.

“Hi!” I say in an overly chipper voice.

And then for reasons I don’t entirely understand, I stick out my hand for him to shake.

In general, I don’t enjoy handshakes. About half the men I shake hands with think a handshake is some sort of pissing contest where the goal is for one person to crush the other’s hand in theirs. Luke seems like the sort of man who might get involved in a handshake pissing contest, but when I hold out my hand to him, his eyes darken. After a pause, he takes my hand.

Immediately, I understand why he hesitated. Luke can barely grip my hand at all. It’s not even a weak handshake. It’s a non-handshake. It lasts about one second, and that entire second is incredibly awkward.

“I’m Lucas Thayer,” he says, as if there was any chance I didn’t know who he was. “Please come into my office, Ms. Jensen.”

I watch as he pushes his palms against the wheels of his chair and enters his office. He turns his chair and slides seamlessly behind the desk. There’s no doubt he’s been using a wheelchair for a while. He’s comfortable in it. This is who he is now.

“Please have a seat, Ms. Jensen,” he says, since I’m still standing in the doorway, gawking at him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say in a soft voice as I practically faint into the leather chair in front of his desk.

Our eyes meet again across the desk. Despite everything, he is still incredibly handsome. Now that I’m looking closer, I notice a small pale scar under his right eye and one down along his jawline. The scars mar the perfection of his features, but also give him this sexy rugged look.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he says. He folds his hands together and that’s when I notice they don’t look quite right. There are deep grooves between the tendons on the back of his hands that did not exist in college. No wonder he couldn’t grip my hand. “You can call me Luke.”

“I’m sorry… Luke,” I mumble.

His eyes study my face, and for a moment, I’m certain I see a shadow of recognition. Like he’s trying to place me. He shifts in his wheelchair.

“Thank you for coming down here, Eleanor,” he says. “I’ve been wanting a chance to sit down with all the project leaders. I’d like to talk about the future of this company.”

I nod, my shoulders relaxing. I’d love to talk about my work—that’s solid ground for me. I could convince him of the importance of what we’re doing, and then he could leave us alone, convinced his company is in good hands. He’ll certainly be impressed when I tell him what we’ve been doing. “I’d be happy to.”

“Good.” He looks down at his Cartier watch. “Unfortunately, I’m running late to a meeting downtown.” He sighs. “Why don’t we discuss it over lunch tomorrow?”

“Um…” I looked down at my own watch, but then remember I don’t wear a watch. “Sure, of course. Should I bring my lunch here, to your office?”

He shakes his head. “Come here at noon tomorrow. We’ll go eat out somewhere.”

“So we’ll get a good meal on the company dime,” I joke.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “I own the company.”

My face burns. “No, I just meant—”

“Ms. Jensen, do you make a habit of charging your meals to the company credit card?”

Oh God. “No! I mean, it was just a…