Huge Deal - Lauren Layne Page 0,33
building, and he’d turned to face her, she’d felt only apprehension, followed by relief when he’d dipped his head, not to kiss her mouth but to brush a lingering kiss against her cheek.
She slumped down in her chair. What was wrong with her? A rich, attractive, charming guy was clearly into her. They got along. They laughed. And yet at night, when she closed her eyes and thought of Jack, his features always morphed, just a little. His smile became a little more reluctant, his eyes a little less gold, his jaw a touch more stubborn, the eyebrows thicker . . .
“Kate.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she realized she was doing it again—thinking of him.
“Hey.” She sat up straight and cleared her throat as she looked at a scowling Kennedy. “What do you need?”
“Why do you assume I need something?”
“Because you’re standing in front of your assistant’s desk, giving her a death glare?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Well, in that case, thank you for the very gentle wake-up,” she said sarcastically, setting her phone facedown on the desk so he couldn’t see any incoming texts from her friends. “If you don’t need anything, I have some stuff to finish up . . .”
“You almost done?”
“No,” she said. “Why? If you need me to do something—”
“I don’t.” Then he stormed off toward his office.
She rolled her eyes. Good talk.
Twenty minutes later, the security guard called her desk phone. “Hey, Kate, it’s Kevin.”
“Hey, Kev.” She was on a first-name basis with all of the guys downstairs. For that matter, she knew just about everyone in the building. It was what made her good at her job, and being good at her job was what made her love her job. She tucked the phone under her ear so she could keep typing. “What’s up?”
“Just sent a food delivery up your way.”
“Really?”
“Shit. Did you not order something? It was one of the normal guys from Kerrigan’s. They said it was for Wolfe, so I just figured at this hour on a Friday night, it was you.”
Kate glanced over her shoulder at Kennedy’s office door. “Nope, but if it was Kerrigan’s, I know exactly who it’s for.”
She knew what it was, too. Roast beef sandwich, extra jus, extra horseradish, and a mixed green salad instead of Kerrigan’s amazing fries, which, as far as Kate was concerned, was a crime against humanity.
She hung up with Kevin, and a minute later, a delivery guy came through the door carrying a bag with Kerrigan’s logo. No cheap plastic bag and Styrofoam for this joint. The bag was paper, the handles black and sturdy, and she was pretty sure the disposable containers were better quality than the plates in her cupboards at home.
“Hey, Joey,” she said, greeting the familiar deliveryman as she pulled the envelope out of her desk drawer where she kept some cash. Usually she ordered food online and used credit cards, of which she had four—one for each of the guys, plus her own for more general office needs. It kept her expense accounting easier. But she kept cash on hand for when one of the guys got hangry, went rogue, and ordered his own food.
“I’ve got it.” Kennedy emerged from his office, pulling out his wallet, and handing Joey some cash.
Joey fumbled for change, but Kennedy held up a hand. “Keep it.”
“Ah, thanks.” Joey flicked a confused look at Kate, likely because the bill in his hand was a hundred. Kate shrugged and gave him a little enjoy the tip smile.
“That was generous,” she said when Joey was out of earshot.
“Hmm?”
She nodded toward the delivery guy. “You do realize you gave him a hundred-dollar bill, right?”
He held up the bag. “I got two sandwiches.”
“Your poor arteries,” she said, putting the money envelope back in her drawer.
“And yours. Come on.”
She looked up as he headed into his office. “What?”
“One of these is for you. You want it or not?”
She did. She so did. She hadn’t eaten since one, and though she kept a few PowerBars and snacks in the kitchen for late nights, a Kerrigan’s sandwich was way better.
And yet . . .
Kate followed Kennedy to his office and stopped in the doorway. “What’s the catch?”
He was already removing the containers from the bag, placing them on his desk. “No catch.”
“But . . .”
He looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just that in the many years we’ve worked together, you’ve never once suggested we eat together.” She walked into his office and accepted the packet of plastic silverware that