“What do you mean bydescribewhen she gets to his office?”
“There’s no indication about their surroundings at all, it doesn’t feel natural.”
She nodded before scribing furiously, lost in her world.
At twelve, Lucy, his assistant, came back from lunch; as instructed, she’d brought back two club sandwiches from the deli down the street.
“Cassie?”
“Mh?”
“There’s some food here.Are you vegetarian?”
She shook her head, ignoring him.Half amused, half perplexed, he found himself cutting pieces and setting food on a plate.Still absently, she pushed the food past her lips, eating on autopilot.She didn’t drink until he pushed her cup of coffee close enough for her to see it next to her manuscript.Jesus, the girl was a danger to herself.Did she lose herself like that at home when she wrote?Or… was there someone to make sure she was appropriately fed and watered?
“Cassie?”
“Uh?”
“Cassie, it’s one o’clock.We’ve been up here for a while now.”
That got her attention.She got on her feet at the speed of light.
“Fuck!”she cursed, making him smile, because he would never have imagined the word crossing her lips.“Michelle’s going to fire my ass.”
“Nonsense,” he replied, amused – she seemed to have forgotten she was speaking to her CEO.“I’ve let her know I’ve detained you.”
She stopped and for the first time, when she looked at him, she held his gaze, visibly trying to read something there.Used to scrutiny, he kept his expression neutral, but to be frank, her observation unsettled him.What was she making of him?
“This,” she said, holding her papers up.“What you’ve done is amazing.I’d offer to pay you if I could afford your consultancy fees.”She cracked a grin he couldn’t do anything but return.“Thank you.I…”
She closed her pretty lips and nibbled at it.
“Spell it out.”
“I’d like to understand why you’re helping me.And I’d like to know how to thank you, too.”
Both questions were equally helpful in figuring out who Cassie was.She was the kind of person who did things herself; she wasn’t too proud to accept help, but when it came, she didn’t expect it or take it for granted.In short, she was the opposite of every woman he’d gone out with over the last decade or so.
“Do you bake?”
Her nod didn’t surprise him.
“My consultancy fee is home-baked goods.And I helped because we’re friends, Cassandra.Remember?”
“Friends,” she repeated with wonder, like it was a foreign word she was saying for the very first time.“Okay then.”
Cassie
Friends.Carter Harris was herfriend.And she owed him baked goodies.
“Fuck me sideways,” she muttered on her way down to her office.
She probably said it a little too loud, because the guy she was sharing the elevator with gave her a funny look.
The new development didn’t make a blink of sense to her.Unless…
She dismissed her thought immediately.If a friend of hers had told her about a man behaving like Carter just had, she would have concluded that he must be interested in her.But it was Carter Harris – she was Cassie Franklin.End of story.
