I nodded, gathering my papers with hands that weren’t quite steady. This was professional, I reminded myself. A work project. Nothing more.
But as I stood to leave, I caught him looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher, but something about it made my skin warm and my heart beat a little faster.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said, rising from his chair. “Both the archetypes and the situation with Rebecca.”
“Thank you for listening,” I replied, suddenly aware of how alone we were in his office, how the air between us seemed charged with something unspoken.
“I’ll see you Monday at seven, Mia.”
Haring him say my name like that made me wonder what it would sound like in other circumstances, in darker, more private moments. The thought sent heat rushing to my cheeks.
“Monday,” I repeated, turning quickly before he could see the effect he had on me. “I’ll be here.”
As I walked back to my office, my mind raced. Seven o’clock Monday couldn’t come fast enough.
MIA
The office had emptied gradually, the usual Monday evening exodus leaving behind that distinct quiet that made the space feel larger, emptier. I checked my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. 6:47.
I’d been ready since six, my files organized, my notes color-coded, and my nerves fraying at the edges with each passing minute. With nothing else to do, I rearranged my notes again.
The wall clock ticked over to 6:55.
With a quiet sigh, I bent down and pulled a heavy box from beneath my desk, stacking the files and my laptop carefully inside. The box was awkward, but I managed to balance it against my hip as I made my way down the dimly lit hallway toward the conference room.
As I passed Jack’s office, his door opened suddenly, and there he stood, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that had no business looking that good. His tie was gone, and the top button of his shirt was undone, making him look more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. And hot. Very hot.
“Let me take that.” He stepped forward, hands outstretched for the box.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, tightening my grip.
Jack raised one eyebrow, a silent challenge that somehow made my insides turn liquid. We stood there for a heartbeat, a ridiculous standoff over a box of files.
“Fine.” I huffed, relinquishing it into his waiting hands. “But I carried it all the way from my office, just so we’re clear.”
“Duly noted.” His mouth twitched, almost a smile but not quite there. “This way.”
I followed him to the conference room, watching the easy way he carried the weight that had me struggling. When he pushed the door open with his shoulder, I was surprised to see the table already set up with two laptop stations and, more surprisingly, a spread of coffee, tea, and an assortment of snacks neatly arranged in the center.
“You brought food?” I blurted, oddly touched by the gesture.
Jack set the box down and glanced at me. “I figured you probably skipped lunch again. Didn’t want you passing out on me.”
The fact that he’d noticed made something warm bloom in my chest. “How did you know?”
“Mia, I have a direct line of sight to your office. I know you rarely leave your desk during the day. So, you always have that look around four o’clock.” He turned away, busying himself with the coffee pot. “Like you’re running on caffeine and determination.”
I wasn’t sure which was more unsettling: that he’d been watching me closely enough to notice my habits, or that he was completely right.
He gestured toward one of the chairs. “Sit. Coffee?”
“God yes.” I sank into the chair, resisting the urge to slip my shoes off. My feet were aching.
“How do you have it?”
“Cream, one sugar. Thanks.”
I watched as he prepared my coffee, his movements efficient and precise. There was something ridiculously attractive about the way his forearms flexed as he stirred, the way his long fingers curled around the mug. It was just coffee, for fuck’s sake. Yet here I was, mesmerized by Jack Sullivan making a simple beverage.
