He gripped Sierra’s wrist and gently pulled it away from his chest.“I’m sorry, but no.”
Sierra blinked, blinked again, and a pair of faint lines appeared in the space between her eyebrows.“What do you mean, no?”
“Please don’t take offense.I’m flattered by your offer, I really am, but… I can’t do this.I don’t want to do this.”
Now she looked downright perplexed.“Nobody tells me no.”
“Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”He shifted to put space between them.From a professional standpoint, he didn’t want to offend her.She was a client, after all, and a high-dollar one at that.If they lost the account after all this bullshit, Austin was going to be pissed.But he also didn’t want to be an asshole and hurt the woman’s feelings.“Trust me when I say it’s not you.Any other man with a lick of sense would crawl on their hands and knees over broken glass for a chance with a woman like you.But there’s a woman I care an awful lot about, and cheating on her is out of the question.”
“Are you sure about that?”The seductive smile hit him full blast, but it didn’t faze him one bit.“This is a one-time offer that expires the moment I walk out the door.”
He nodded.“Positive.”
Sierra’s smile vanished.Her lips pursed into a pout, but she didn’t really seem all that broken up about it.“Can’t blame a woman for trying, right?She must be a special woman.”
“She is.”Just thinking about Sloane made his body light up like a Roman candle.
“Will you still be part of my security detail?”Sierra asked.“I kind of like knowing there are people on my team who won’t think twice about shattering a kneecap.”
He nodded again, relieved to know this wasn’t going to cost Six Points its contract.“I’ll be part of your Florida team as long as that meets your approval.”
“It does.”She eyed him again.“If you change your mind about the screenplay, you know how to reach me.”
Navarre watched her leave, not moving a muscle until the door clicked shut behind her.
He’d just turned down the sexiest woman on the planet.Scratch that, the second sexiest.The woman holding the number one position was down the hall in the cyber security unit, probably cursing his existence because he was a dumbass.
That needed to change as soon as possible.
Chapter 22
Sloanearrivedatworkthe next morning with fifteen minutes to spare, and snagged one of the prized parking spots in front of the building.Now that she’d uncovered the identity of the person responsible for Sierra Page’s attempted kidnapping, she needed to start catching up on the mountain of work piled up in her queue.It wasn’t nearly as exciting as her time in the mountains, and that was fine by her.
She still hadn’t heard a peep from Navarre, which left her in a sour mood.No calls, no emails, and no response to the “Hey, how are you doing?”text she’d sent him the other day.Not even a chance meeting in the hall.Going back to being “just friends” was hard enough.Him ghosting her was rude.Fine, whatever…that was his loss.One way or another, she’d move on with her life and eventually forget he existed.
Shoving the unpleasant thoughts from her mind, she pushed through the front door and was greeted with a blast of ice-cold air.The guys must have noticed that Nina messed with the thermostat and cranked the temperature back down to hypothermia.Good thing she had a space heater under her desk, so at least her toes wouldn’t freeze.
She continued down the hall to her office.With a flip of the switch, the room flooded with light, and the first thing she noticed was the plain white bakery box on her desk.An envelope rested on top of it.
That definitely hadn’t been there when she left the office yesterday.
Curious, she crossed to her desk, dropped her purse in a drawer, and slipped on the old purple cardigan she kept on the back of her chair.The cardigan clashed with her chartreuse shirt, but screw it, she’d rather be warm than fashionable.
She opened the box, and the delicious aroma of peaches and cinnamon made her mouth water and reminded her that she’d skipped breakfast.It was a pie, with a homemade crust and everything.Freshly baked, by the look of it.
The pie triggered the memory of a conversation she’d had in North Carolina.Heart racing, she picked up the envelope and took out the handwritten note.
I asked Momma Jackson to bake you a pie, but she told me to make it my own damn self.Don’t worry; she watched me like a hawk while I made it, so it should meet her high standards.I hope you enjoy it.
We need to talk.
The note wasn’t signed, but she knew who wrote it.
He’d made her a pie.From scratch.After avoiding her for days.She wasn’t sure how to interpret the mixed messages.
While she mulled it over, she walked to the break room and fished a dollar from her pocket.If she wanted to put a significant dent in her backload of work, she was going to need a caffeine boost.She fed the money into the soda machine, and it made her think of that little motel where they—
She slammed the door on that memory.
