confused for a while and then dropped her spoon and exploded. “Oh crap, you’re crushing on her!”
Now he knew she really needed to get back to work. She was making this into a soap opera. “I don’t know what they told you—”
“I can’t say too much without revealing my sources.”
He already knew her sources. “Don’t bother. It’s all bull.”
“I don’t work for you anymore, so I’m going to go ahead and be honest.”
“When have you ever held back?”
“You’d be surprised.”
He laughed. “What’s your take? You think I fell in love in a day or something?”
Monica’s gaze narrowed on his face. “Who’s talking about love?”
She had him there. “No one.”
“But you think she’s beautiful.”
Nick didn’t think it. It was a fact. His thoughts ran to the moment he’d opened his door and found her there, packaged like a gift in that flirty skirt and heels. Arguably, it was an odd choice for a first day on the job, but he’d loved it. Those legs, that skin... He wished they’d met under different circumstances. He’d have enjoyed getting her out of those silly clothes.
Monica cleared her throat. She was still waiting for an answer.
“I think she’s gorgeous.”
Monica shot up, raising her fist in victory. “I knew it!”
Nick tapped his foot against the metal leg of the table, waiting for her to settle down.
She took a sip of beer and composed herself.
“Monica, it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Want to know what I think?”
He looked at her, unguarded, waiting.
“I knew you’d fall hard for someone someday. You’re not the player you think you are.”
“That day is not today, babe.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Chasing some girl around a desk is not your style. Plus, you need more than an office wife.”
“You mean a second office wife. My first wife walked out on me and married a nice guy.”
“I was fired. Don’t rewrite history.”
“More romantic my way.”
“Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”
“I worked with you and you’re the sexiest thing around.”
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but thanks. I needed to hear that,” she said. “Still. I think you should be careful.”
“What do you think’s going to happen?” He asked because he really wanted to know. How was this going to play out? Leila would be there tomorrow and the next day. And he wasn’t about to change. His sexual life had never been about self-denial.
“Nothing will happen to you,” Monica said gravely. “But Jo-Ann will drum that girl out of K & M so fast she won’t know what hit her.”
Sharks move constantly, Leila observed her second day on the job. Nicolas Adrian arrived late and left early, wheeling a black, hard-shell suitcase behind him. “I’ll be in New York the rest of the week. See you Monday.” Leila was relieved. It gave her a full week to get settled and to focus on her training. But then he returned sooner than expected. Early Thursday, she heard him down the hall, swapping stories with Tony and Greg.
Simply hearing his voice caused Leila’s pulse to skip. She told herself it was natural to be nervous, her hands trembling as she tidied her desk. She dumped a half-empty cup of yogurt. Beside her keyboard was a framed photo of her in full pageant regalia posing next to her aunt Camille, a Diana Ross lookalike. A stranger might mistake them for mother and daughter based on their similar broad smiles alone. Leila grabbed it and tucked it in a bottom drawer.
When he finally rounded the corner, followed by the other two, her desk was tidy but her emotions were a mess. Her eyes rushed to his face. Nicolas Adrian was a striking man. The hard lines of his face could turn off the romantics and the dreamers, but those blue eyes certainly could turn them back on.
“Hey there, Leila.”
“Mr. Adrian. Good morning. You’re back early.” Her voice was weak, betraying her.
He rested a cup of Starbucks coffee on her desk. “For you. I don’t know how you like it, so I improvised.”
She reached for the cup. “It’s fine. Thanks.”
“Just tell me what you like. For next time.”
“Milk. Sugar.”
“A latte, then.”
To save money Leila had avoided Starbucks, brewing coffee at home. Miami’s party scene was pricey. She spent enough on cocktails every weekend and didn’t need an expensive coffee habit, too. If a latte equaled coffee plus Coffee-mate, she’d be fine.
“I’m not picky, Mr. Adrian. Whatever works.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Damn it. She needed the buffer that formality provided. She needed that shield. This was his second warning, though, and she’d have to stop. “Okay. What do I call you?”
“You know my name.”
Her grip tightened around the paper cup and the heat seared her fingertips. The group moved into his office. Before the door closed behind them, she heard Tony say, “Your new girl is hot.”
Nick’s quick response was cutting. “Back off.”
She didn’t see much of him after that. He’d left for lunch at noon, called in a few times, but never returned, which was fine because she had to recover from that brief morning exchange. The next day, Friday, he made an appearance around three. Instead of saying, “Good afternoon. How are you getting along? Do you have any questions?” He gestured for her to follow him. “We’ve got a new listing.”
She grabbed a pad and pen and trailed after him. This marked her first time in his office. The walls were bare except for matted and framed bachelor’s and master’s degrees in business administration; the first from University of Toronto, the second from NYU. Leila thought of Alicia—“Get a degree! Any degree!”—and felt sick. She focused on a bank of windows showcasing the chaotic mess on Brickell Avenue. The gridlocked traffic looked like a parade of luxury cars.
Nick handed her a sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “I want this property photographed
