She’d been going to meet someone...?
The lipstick.
Another man.
Sage had a lover somewhere in the building and had been going for a quick tryst before meeting up with the ex-lover who’d walked out on her right before their wedding.
The potential facts laid out before him as though in huge letters on a movie screen as he followed Sage into her impressively windowed, decent-size office.
Her high-heeled pumps making no sound on the plush beige carpet.
She had a view of the ocean in the far distance.
And a lover in the building.
Which was a good thing, it occurred to him as he sat in the leather armchair she offered in the conversation seating at the opposite end of the room from her desk. A current lover was just the stake he needed in the heart of whatever nonsense had struck him the night before.
Seeing her on the beach.
With that cute little kid on her hip.
Her daughter’s father...
Where was the guy?
Did he work in the building? Had the lipstick been for him?
She offered Gray a bottle of water and at his “I’m good, thank you,” proceeded over to her desk.
The farthest spot in the room from him.
She picked up a folder.
Was she planning to address him from there? While standing behind her desk?
Like he was a recalcitrant schoolkid in class?
He turned his focus on the view in the distance. The ocean.
Whatever she needed him to sign, agreeing to keep his distance from her, he’d sign. Probably some form of unofficial restraining order, that would become official somehow if he disavowed it in any way.
If he couldn’t be near her, it meant that she couldn’t be near him, either. Or she’d give him just cause to disobey the order. He might not be a hotshot lawyer, but he held a doctorate degree just like she did. He knew things.
And could figure out others.
He watched the city move in the nearer distance down below. The birds flying against an azure-blue sky. She hadn’t started her spiel yet.
He kept his hands relaxed on his thighs. Intending to show her that he had no skin to lose where she was concerned.
She was sharp. If he allowed her to call the shots, following her lead, she’d get it.
Quickly, he hoped. He was a little unclear just how much time he could give himself before he started to show some obvious tension.
By politely asking her to get on with it so he could get the hell out of there.
He smelled her perfume before he heard her approach. Glanced her way long enough to see her settle on the couch, but focused on the paperwork she’d set down on the table.
Not one folder.
