She’s shivering, even though it’s not cold. I wish this wasn’t always so hard for her to open up. But I understand why it is. I run my thumb along her jawline. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me now.”
“I wasn’t sure what was happening between us that morning when we ran. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to say anything if I wasn’t going to see you again.”
My heart speeds up. “Are you sure now that you’re going to see me again? Because you better keep seeing me.”
She swats me playfully. “You better be sure too. Because I want to keep seeing you, Tyler Nichols.”
“And you will see me. And I want you to talk to me. To trust me. To open up. Do you want that?”
She draws a sharp breath. “I do.”
And I smile once more. Because there it is. She isn’t going to keep everything hidden. She isn’t going to spend her days wrapping herself in armor. She’ll take it off, so long as she knows I’ll be here. I drop a kiss to her forehead and linger there. “I want you to know your heart is safe with me.”
“I want it to be safe with you,” she whispers. She pulls back and shoots me a coy little look. Her voice turns flirty. “But are you sure you aren’t mad at me for not telling you the full truth when we went running?”
I scoff. “Not even a little.”
She snaps her fingers in an aw-shucks gesture.
“Shame. Because I was ready to come to your office and grovel.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Did you say grovel?”
19
Delaney
* * *
The next morning, I ransack my closet, slip on some shoes, and make my way to Tyler’s office.
When the elevator dings on his floor, I smooth a hand over my hastily assembled outfit. Tight black skirt. Short-sleeve white blouse. Heels. They’re black and make me four inches taller.
Enough said.
He doesn’t know I’m coming. But the lift of his brow yesterday afternoon, and the glint in his eye, told me he’d be fine with an unexpected visitor who’s come to grovel.
The receptionist greets me with a cheery hello.
“I’m looking for Oliver Edgecombe.”
“Of course. Who shall I say is here?”
I set my hands on her desk, dart my eyes around, and whisper, “It’s Delaney, but can you keep it a secret? I’m surprising Tyler, and I need Oliver’s help. I don’t want Tyler to know I’m here to give him a neck massage.”
That’s my cover. Well, I suspect Oliver knows what a neck massage will probably turn into. But when I called him this morning to ask for his help, he went along with the premise. Bless him.
Holly smiles. “Of course.”
She dials Tyler’s coworker, and a few seconds later, the handsome man strides to the front of the office to greet me. We review the plan, and he gives me a thumbs-up.
“You’re a doll,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he winks. “I hope someday some hot, strapping thing surprises me at my office with a neck massage. Someday soon, come to think of it.”
I smile. “I’ll hope that for you, too.”
The receptionist waves her hand, cutting in. “Yoo-hoo. Can I get in on this, too?”
“Of course, Holly.” Oliver whispers to her, and her blue eyes light up. She guides me to the copy room, ushers me in, and shuts the door.
“I love surprises,” Holly says, her tone giddy. “Tyler’s going to be so psyched to see you.”
I wonder how she knows that. “He is?”
Holly nods and keeps her voice hushed. “He’s crazy about you.”
“He mentions me?”
“Yes. Several times. All good. Plus, he’s always stretching his neck back and forth.”
I want to ask more, but I’ve already procured enough good news to float away on a cloud of bliss. I cock my head when I hear Oliver ask Tyler to come into his office. That’s the cue. Holly opens the copy room door, scans the hall, then beckons to me. She points across the hallway to Tyler’s office, sets a hand on my back, and guides me inside with a gentle shove.
“Should I shut the door?” she whispers.
I nod and mouth yes, please.
As soon as it clicks shut, I unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt and wait.
My heart jackhammers, and my skin heats up. With excitement. With hope. With desire.
“You got this, man. You’re the IP king,” Tyler’s voice booms from the hall, and a stupid grin spreads on my face. Is it crazy that I love that he’s praising his colleague? But I do. I love that he’s good to them. I love, too, that they want to help surprise him.
Most of all, I’m thrilled he’s about to open the door.
The doorknob creaks and then turns.
It’s now or never.
With a quickness, my fingers open more buttons.
“Weird. Don’t remember closing this,” he says to himself, as he opens the door all the way, and I pray he’s alone.
“You didn’t close it.”
He blinks and roams his eyes over me. It takes all of one second to register what’s happening, and in that wink of time, he slams the door shut. “Please say you’re not an illusion.”
“I’m not an illusion or a figment of your dirty imagination. But I am sorry.” I work open another button.
He shakes his head and gestures to me. “Never apologize for this.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthright when we went for a run,” I clarify, as I finish the final button.