office. Ever. She thought if she brought any hot food into her office, the smell would permeate the walls, the carpet, would linger and become stale and nauseating, marking her as common to the partners. Not worthy of her own corner office and the coveted partnership.
But it wasn’t every day that a man brought her something without wanting anything in return.
“I don’t—” Eat in here, she was going to say. But watching him kneel on the blanket, the thin white material of his T-shirt stretching over the muscles of his back as he made their dinner, the words curled up in her mouth then slid back down her throat. “I don’t have any dishes,” she said instead.
“All taken care of.” He jerked his head toward a place beside him on the blanket. “Come sit and have something to eat. The sooner you eat your dinner, the sooner you can throw me out.” He flashed her a smile that swayed her resolve even more.
Bailey kicked off her shoes and sat on the blanket. Even with the competing aroma of the food, she could detect his scent, a woodsy cologne, the faint tang of sweat. He smelled of masculinity and the outdoors.
“I didn’t invite you in here to bring me dinner.” She tried to make her words firm but knew they were as melting as butter left out in the sunlight. Bailey took a slice of apple and felt its satisfying, juicy crunch between her teeth.
“I know. You didn’t invite me in here at all, but I appreciate you opening your door.” Seven brought out two plastic plates, forks and clear cups.
“I’m sure you know what I’m going to say next.”
“Yes, I do. But save all that love talk for later.”
Bailey shook her head, reluctantly smiling. Seven pulled a small stack of napkins from the basket and put it in the ocean of space Bailey had left between them. “I got all this from Whole Foods, so I assume it’s all organic and good for you, in case that’s a concern.” Seven tugged a chicken leg free and began to eat. “Go ahead,” he said, chewing.
Bailey tucked her feet under her on the blanket, glanced up at him through her lashes, at his smiling mouth glistening from the chicken juices.
“Okay.”
She made a small sandwich from a croissant, chicken and bits of the salad. The food was good. Her croissant was buttery and warm around the perfectly seasoned pieces of chicken, faintly bitter greens, sweet apples and crumbly blue cheese. Beside her, Seven ate with rich appetite, quickly finishing the chicken leg before reaching into the golden-brown bird to rip out a piece of the breast with his long fingers. Her stomach fluttered.
“I appreciate you making time in your evening to see me,” Seven said after finishing his latest mouthful.
“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”
“Yes, I did. You know that better than anyone.”
He was right. She could have called the police. Called security. Or even pointed to the door and demanded he leave immediately. He didn’t seem the type to ignore a woman’s wishes. But that was an assumption based on absolutely nothing. The last time she’d assumed so much, she’d ended up with a tarnished engagement ring and a lifetime of embarrassment.
Seven ripped a croissant in two, watching her carefully. “If you want me to leave, I will. You never have to worry about me forcing myself on you. Never.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. I—”
A knock interrupted her. “Ms. Hughes, are you still here?”
She froze with a piece of chicken in her mouth. One of the firm’s partners was at the door. A brief flutter of panic rippled through her stomach. She thought they’d all gone home. Quickly, she finished chewing, wiped her hands on a napkin and stood up to open the door. Her boss Harry Braithwaite stood on the other side, briefcase in hand.
“Good evening, Mr. Braithwaite.” She smiled at her boss, blocking the view into the office with her body. “Yes, I’m still here. Taking care of a few last-minute details with the Wallace-Chatham account.” That wasn’t a complete lie. She’d been poring over the paperwork when Seven called.
Bailey fought the urge to curl her bare toes self-consciously in the carpet, hoping he hadn’t seen them. Going barefoot in the office was heavily frowned upon, especially by the raving germaphobe Raphael Fernandez. But bare feet made her feel unfettered and free, especially in the glass prison her office could at times become.
“That is a tricky one, isn’t it?” Harry said. His nose twitched.
Did he smell the food in her office? Would he ask to come in and talk about the account?
Bailey cleared her throat. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
He nodded briskly. “Good. That’s just the kind of attitude we like for a partner to have.” Mr. Braithwaite nodded again, eyes flickering behind her to look into her office. “Keep up the good work. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Bailey released a quiet breath. “Have a good night, Mr. Braithwaite.”
He thanked her and headed down the hallway for the elevators. He and Raphael had been dangling the partnership carrot in front of her for the past few months now, stressing how a Braithwaite and Fernandez partner should act, react and behave. And Bailey was success-driven enough to leap for that carrot. With a broken engagement now two years behind her and no immediate prospects for a family of her own, this was something she wanted more than ever.
Her sister, Bette, thought she was being downright ridiculous about the partnership thing. But her sister never worried about anything. For her, life was one big expensive party where someone else always picked up the tab. She was as carefree about life as Marcus. Only he could actually afford to be. Bette could not.
Bailey waited until Mr. Braithwaite was halfway down the hallway before she went back into her office.
Seven’s eyebrow quirked with mischief. “Did I almost get you in trouble?”
“Hardly,” she said. “This is not the principal’s office.”
“Not unless you’re the sexy teacher, and in that case, I’ll be more than happy to be your naughty student.” He grinned.
She shook her head. “No.”
But his teasing was infectious. She almost smiled as she sat back on the blanket next to him and picked up the remains of her sandwich. Her boss hadn’t noticed anything. And if he had, he hadn’t said a word about it. Surely, something like this couldn’t affect her chances of getting the partnership. She dismissed Harry Braithwaite from her mind and bit into the sandwich.
“You need to relax,” he said. “It’s a job. Not your life.”
“For me, it’s the same thing.” She covered her mouth with one hand as she answered him, still chewing.
“Then we need to change that.”
We?
Bailey laughed. Seven’s audacity and the way he stirred her sleeping libido made her want to prolong these moments in his company. He was charming, almost unnaturally beautiful, and she liked him. A lot.
Seven
