Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Elementary-school art and free wine. What more can a girl ask for?”
He smiled. “It’s been what, four years, since we’ve seen each other? And yet it feels like we picked up right where we left off. There’s a comfort between us, and it’s because of you. You’re just real. That might sound simple, but it’s not easy to find dating.”
I sipped my wine. “Are you still seeing that woman you told me about a few months back? Petra or something like that?”
“We split up a few weeks before I left for India.”
“What happened?”
“Something was missing. How about you? Have you met anyone since moving to New York?”
My mind immediately went to Dawson, which was stupid because obviously Simon was asking if I was seeing anyone. I shook my head. “No. But I did get a marriage proposal from a man who looked about eighty and I’m pretty sure lives in the subway station. So things are looking up.”
Simon tugged a piece of my hair. “I’ve really missed you, Naomi.”
An alarm went off. But…ugh. I’m being stupid. I was letting Dawson’s comments about how a man and woman who are attracted to each other can’t be friends influence my thoughts. Dawson didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Simon and I talked to each other about our dating lives, for God’s sake. So I tamped down thoughts of my boss’s distorted view of the world and took the compliment the way it was meant—friendly. “Thank you. I’ve missed you, too.”
But then something shifted. Simon leaned closer, and one of his hands moved to my knee. His thumb brushed back and forth. “We always had good chemistry, didn’t we?”
The alarm in my head blared louder. Yet still, I did my best to ignore it. I had to be misreading things, right? Simon was just comfortable with me. He’d said so himself not long ago.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
Still in denial, I swiped at my mouth. Probably there was something there that had caught his attention.
But there was nothing.
Simon slipped the wine glass from my hand and set it on the coffee table, along with his. And yet I was still in denial, even as his mouth moved to meet mine…
Chapter 16
* * *
DAWSON
“Morning.” I nodded as I walked past Naomi’s desk.
She frowned. “What’s so good about it?”
I lifted a brow. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”
Naomi ignored me and went back to typing.
Okay then. I’d worked with enough women to know how to handle one in a mood, so I took the bag in my hand—with the coconut cake pop I couldn’t resist buying at Starbucks this morning—and set it on her desk. “Got this for you.”
She narrowed her eyes and growled at me. Growled. So I hauled ass to my office and shut the door. I didn’t have time to worry about what was up Naomi’s ass after that. My morning consisted of two conference calls and putting out one fire after the next. It was after one by the time I emerged again, and I’d forgotten all about my paralegal’s mood.
Speaking of moods… My own significantly improved as I walked to the copy machine and got an eyeful of Naomi from the back, wearing a red dress. I smiled as I approached, but when she turned and gave me the death glare, it wilted.
“Do you need to use the machine?” she asked.
“After you. I’m not in a rush.”
She sighed. “Just give them to me. I’ll do it for you.”
“I can make my own copies.”
I had a four-page evidence list in my hand. She plucked it from my fingers. “One set?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Whish. Slam. She opened and closed the copier with enough rage that I was surprised the lid didn’t crack.
“Did I do something to upset you?” I asked.
“I’m not upset.”
“So this is you happy?”
She scowled again. “Is it a requirement of my job to smile?”
“No. But it’s a small office, and it’s kind of hard to ignore when someone looks like they want to bite me.”
She ignored my comment and finished making the copies. While I waited, I replayed our interaction from earlier. I was usually pretty good at saying or doing the wrong thing, but I hadn’t had an opportunity to do either yet, so it couldn’t have been me who’d upset her. At least not today. So I thought back further, to our last interaction on Saturday. Had we argued and I’d forgotten about it? Then it hit me. She had that date last night.
“How was the art gallery?” I asked.
She whipped around with my papers in hand and put her hands on her hips. “Why would you ask that?”
I shrugged. “No reason. Just making conversation.”
Her lips pursed as she stared at me in silence. I wanted to take a step back, but I stood my ground. Eventually she held out the copies. “Is there anything else you need?”