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Page 108 of All's Well that Friends Well

“You don’t want me to be dressed?” she says, and the car screeches to a halt.

“Goodgrief,Juliet,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re uninvited if you say things like that.”

“Boo,” she says. “So I have to wear clothes?”

“Youmustwear clothes. Absolutely, definitely, you must wear clothes.”

A long, dramatic sigh filters down the line. “Fine,” she says. “Where should I meet you?”

“I’m pulling into my driveway,” I say, trying to calm my racing pulse. “Just head toward my house and I’ll meet you partway.”

“And you’resureI have to?—”

“I’m sure,” I say firmly. “And I’m hanging up now.”

By the time I’ve parked in the driveway and loosened my collar buttons, I’m able to breathe a little better, and my heart has stopped pounding. Electricity still leaps in my chest at the thought of seeing Juliet, though, so I give myself a second before I start walking in the direction of her house.

About halfway there, I spot her—I would’ve known it was her even during the light of day, even with my glasses off, and even though she’s not dressed in herusual feminine outfit. There’s something about the way Juliet moves that’s unique. It’s a light, lilting walk, graceful and whimsical and wholly her own.

When she rounds the street corner and into view, passing beneath a street lamp, my mouth goes dry; I swallow and clear my throat before resuming my normal stride as we approach each other. She has on a plain black tank top and gray sweatpants, and her hair in in a messy ponytail instead of smoothly curled. She’s completely casual tonight, apparently—and undeniably sexy.

She has to know. Doesn’t she? She must know the effect she has—on anyone who sees, probably, but also on me. The way my pulse whooshes in my veins, the way my hands itch to touch her.

Am I so easily seduced? Or is it just because it’s her?

I shove my hands in my pocket and keep moving toward her, something soft and warm growing in my chest as her face lights up with a smile.

“Mr. Slater,” she says primly when I’m close enough to hear.

I shake my head. “You can’t call me that right now.”

She sticks that stupid bottom lip out. “But isn’t it kind of fun?” she says, closing the rest of the space between us with a skip and a hop. Then she bats her eyelashes up at me. “It’s sort of sexy, isn’t it?”

It really, really is. “It is not,” I say. I raise my brow. “Are we walking?”

“We’re walking,” she says as her pout turns into a genuine smile. “Where?”

I shrug, my hands still crammed into my pockets. “Anywhere you want.”

“Mmm,” she says, looking up and down the street, darksave for the lamps. Then she nods to our left. “This way.” She begins walking immediately, and I follow, watching her from behind like a creep.

I hurry to catch up to her, because I’m not actually being weird. It’s just…she looks different today. Shefeelsdifferent. And yet I have a suspicion that it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.

“So,” Juliet says, looking over at me as the warm breeze plays with her ponytail. “Here’s what we should do.”

I don’t even know what she’s talking about, but whatever it is, I’m ready. So I nod. “I’m listening.”

“First, we should hold hands,” she says, surprising me as she reaches for me, looking expectant.

I blink at her outstretched hand and hesitate for only a second. Then I intertwine my fingers with hers, trying not to startle at the feeling.

Warm. Soft. Comfortable. Familiar.

Juliet nods, a little smile curling over her lips. “Excellent,” she says. “That’s number one. Number two, you should create a monthly incentive program for the sales team. I’ll also help you draft an email about the issues this branch has been having, just to see if a frank conversation will help.”

I’m still stupidly fixated on the press of her palm against mine, but I do manage to follow what she’s saying. I clear my throat to get my head on straight and then speak. “I thought the same thing,” I say. “Laying out the situation for the employees again. I tried before but it didn’t seem to help. We can get that ball rolling tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning,” she says, looking down at our clasped hands. Then her gaze swings up to mine. “At which point we will officiallybe dating?”