A Holiday Temptation - Tiffany Patterson Page 0,18

a frustrated breath. For a week, this is how any conversation between us has gone. I swore at times I searched the walls for my accreditation in dentistry because this was like pulling teeth.

“Are you ever going to drop the attitude?”

He gave a derisive snort. “Not likely.”

I roll my eyes, feeling sick of just about all of the men in my life, dead and alive. “What did you think of the suggestions in the report? Regarding the design additions to Cypress?”

He drops the pen, perching his elbows on the side of his chair, and stares at me. “About the ramps and making the building more accessible?”

I nod.

“Why’d you add it in?”

“Because it’s needed. Cypress’ building is older, out of date, and as much as it needs the technological update, it also needs an inclusivity update. More and more clients seeking mental health services and rehab are presenting with disabilities.”

“Yeah, I read that statistic from last week.” He runs his hand through his hair, the same way he did back then whenever he got frustrated.

I can’t help the smile that overtakes my face at seeing the familiar movement.

“It’ll bump up the cost for Townsend, all of these renovations.”

“It will, but,” I pull out the projections sheet from the report, “Nolan says he thinks it’ll add a ton of value in the long run given the revenue it’ll bring in from increased clientele.”

“That’s what it’s all about, right? Revenue?”

My head snaps backward at the accusation in his tone. “I thought that would’ve been a major selling point for you all here at Townsend because of the emphasis placed on the bottom line at every meeting.”

My voice is just as snappy as his. Hell, I’m getting kind of tired of being bullied by men in my life, and I’m just plain tired and hungry since I haven’t eaten since lunch. It’s going on six o’clock.

“You’re right,” he finally concedes. “My apologies,” he says just above a mumble, but I’ll take it.

“I’ll get with Nolan and the lawyers tomorrow to come up with two separate projections you can present to your boss.”

“Thanks.” He runs his hand through his hair again, and the same tiredness I’ve been feeling takes hold of his expression.

Right then, my stomach decides to interrupt the party and growls. Loudly.

“Do you want to pick up dinner at the vegan place down the block? I hear they remain open late during the week.” The question comes out of nowhere. It has to be driven by my hunger. Mark has not once even indicated that he’d be open to sharing a meal with me.

Mark wears a surprised expression. “Why?”

“Because I’m starving, and my stomach isn’t the only one growling in this room.” I stand, remove my long jacket from the stand in the corner of the room, and put it on.

“We’ve got work to do.”

“And Rome wasn’t built in a day,” I quickly respond. “Come on. I know you’re just as hungry as I am. Work isn’t going anywhere. We still have the rest of the week. Weekends, whatever, to get this job done. But nothing will get accomplished if we pass out from starvation.”

He frowns. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re stubborn. My treat.”

“I don’t need you to treat me.”

I laugh. “Whatever. Let’s go.” After stuffing my files back into my work bag, I head out the door. Part of me is relieved when I see Mark exit behind me. For once, he doesn’t put up much of an argument. Hunger is a powerful motivator.

Chapter 7

Is this a date?

The strange question pops into my head, for the third time, after I’ve tried to push it away. However, this is the third night in a row that I find myself out to dinner with Mark after working long hours in the office together.

“Told you this place was better,” he says from across the circular table.

I nod my head, conceding. “Their sweet potato delight is delicious.” I fork another bite of the sweet potato topped with cashew butter, kale, pickled red cabbage, and sesame seeds. It’s a weird mix, but delicious nonetheless.

“That other place is for show. It’s why they opened in the downtown district near Townsend. All the corporate gym rats and vegans rush over to that place during lunch hours. This little place is so much better.”

“I have to agree. You still have great taste in food.” I take another bite into my mouth, unmindful that Mark has stopped chewing.

Only once I swallow do I catch him staring at me. My words rush back