even though he didn’t have to, and she wasn’t about to impose on him further.
Trish smiled and grabbed her purse. “Actually, I’m walking. It’s only a few blocks from here.”
“Then I’ll walk you.” If anything, he sounded more grumpy now than he had before.
“Oh, that’s totally not necessary. The neighborhood is just fine and it’s not particularly late.” She gave Cameron an absent smile and headed for the elevator. “Thanks, though.” It was edging toward eleven, but that didn’t mean anything. She’d checked the street out last week with Becka—apparently walking could induce labor and Becka had been determined to make it happen—and there were several bars that would still be open around now, which meant pedestrian traffic. It was one of the pluses of the area when she was picking a place to live—that and the apartment came furnished and was within walking distance to the office. The rent was still astronomical, but Aaron was paying her an astronomical salary.
He’d promised it wasn’t a pity job, that he really needed her specifically to do this, but it felt like a pity job.
Stop it. Chin up. You’re going to help out your brother, save up some money and explore the city while you figure out your next step. Those are all good things.
She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Cameron walking beside her until Trish stepped out onto the street and was hit full in the face with icy wind. She shivered and barely had time to wish that she’d packed a warmer coat before a heavy weight settled on her shoulders.
She blinked and touched the coat Cameron had just draped over her. “You’ll freeze.”
“I’m fine.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Which way?”
She could keep arguing and let them both stand out in the cold or she could just give in and spend next week establishing that she didn’t want Cameron looking after her. She had an older brother. She didn’t need two.
You don’t see this man in a brotherly light and you know it.
Shut up.
And he wouldn’t have stared at your mouth like that if he saw you like a sister.
Seriously. Shut. Up.
She picked up her pace and Cameron easily fell into step next to her. Even as she told herself to keep her smile in place and just accept his chaperoning, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “You realize I’m an adult, right? I can walk three blocks without having you shadow my steps and glower at anyone who looks at me sideways.” When he didn’t respond, her irritation flared hotter. “I have an older brother. I don’t need another one.” She jerked her thumb toward the door they’d stopped in front of. “This is me.”
“Trish.”
God, the things that man could do with a single syllable. She froze, her feet rooted to the ground as he stepped closer, his big body blocking the wind. This time, she couldn’t stop herself from swaying toward him, answering the gravitational pull he exuded. He didn’t move, but he didn’t have to. Trish went up onto her tiptoes and her mouth found his as if there had never been another destination for her.
The contact shocked her right down her to bones. His lips moved against hers, cautious and then commanding, taking everything she gave and then demanding more. Her knees actually buckled at the slow slide of his tongue against hers, and Cameron caught her easily around the hips.
He lifted his head, breaking the contact between them. All she could do was stare as he took his jacket from around her shoulders and shrugged it on. He nudged her to her door and waited for her to key in the code to get through. Then Cameron stood there until she shut the door firmly behind her.
Trish watched him stalk away. Did that just happen?
She’d just kissed her boss.
On her first day.
She pressed her shaking fingers to her lips. “I am in so much trouble.”
CAMERON SPENT ALL weekend cursing himself for kissing Trish back. He should have stepped away and clarified that they had a professional relationship only. Reminded her that she was his best friend’s little sister. Done literally anything except coax her mouth open with his tongue.
Now he knew what she tasted like. And that she’d melted so sweetly against him at the first contact. Not to mention the delicious way she’d shivered when he’d grabbed her hips.
Fuck me.
When Monday morning rolled around, he almost decided to work remotely. That was the path of a coward. Better to rip the Band-Aid off now and deal with her hurt feelings and move on. It might make the workplace awkward, but if Aaron’s glowing praise of his baby sister was any indication, it wouldn’t get her down for long.
It was only a kiss, after all.
The elevator seemed to take twice as long as normal, and he had to concentrate to keep from fidgeting. Cameron had arrived thirty minutes early on purpose. If he was safely camped out in his office, hopefully they could just pretend that misstep on Friday never happened.
The elevator doors opened and he barely made it a single step. If not for the walls being painted the same green he’d been elbow deep in a few days ago, he’d have thought he was in the wrong place. Comfortable-looking chairs—a warm sand color with a stripe of burnt red—were arranged on either side of the room. A leafy tree gracefully rose on either side of the window.
A window that had new curtains to match the chairs.
On the other side of the room, a water feature was arranged in the corner, a geometrical design with round stones and dark wood borders.
There was even fucking art on the walls.
When the hell did she find time to do this? She had to have put in long-ass days to find the pieces and haul them up here. He could comfort himself that they’d been delivered, but from what little he knew about Trish Livingston, he had no doubt that she’d physically carried every single piece up here herself.
Without asking for help.
Without once considering that she should ask for help.
Irritation flickered closer to true anger. He eyed her desk as he passed, taking in the cheery flower arrangement, the stack of bright Post-it notes and the overflowing mug of equally bright pens.
He clenched his jaw and headed down the hallway, but Cameron only made it three steps when the door to their mostly unused conference room opened and Trish herself appeared. She had a handful of paint color swatches in front of her face, and her brow was furrowed and her lips—red, today—were pursed. She hummed to herself. “This blue is too cold. No red. No yellow. I need a power color that’s not in-your-face.”
He planted his feet, irritation derailed
