Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Only, I don’t leave it behind. Far, far from it. In fact, it’s all I can think about. The way he smiled at me, the touch of his hand on my cheek, the way his lips felt pressed against mine. He’s sparked something inside me. New, scary feelings. Feelings I never thought I’d have for him. And now, back in the office, I can’t concentrate. I can’t do anything but sit at my desk—and think of him.
Work? Gone . Seth? Who?
Well, not entirely “Seth Who?” I mean, I can’t go that far, and certainly not for a guy like Alex. That would be insanity at its most extreme. I’m dating Seth, and I’m very happy about it, too. Extremely happy. Deliriously happy, in fact. Seth is a good guy, the kind of guy I agreed to have the No More Bad Dates Pact find. And I want to be with him I really, really do.
But then Alex kissed me and turned my whole world on its head.
Guilt stabs me in the side. I can’t go kissing Alex when I’m dating Seth. Sure. We’re not exclusive or anything yet, but that’s where we’re heading. That’s the whole point of the No More Bad Dates Pact.
I bury my head in my hands. What am I doing?
I glance at the clock on the wall every couple of minutes. And I know it’s every couple of minutes because I’m looking at a freaking clock. I’m totally on edge, waiting, waiting.
Two o’clock comes and goes.
He said he’d be here after finishing work at two. I tap my pencil on my desk. I guess he needs to get across town, so that would mean if he left at exactly two, he would get here by about two-thirty, traffic allowing. But then, does he have a car? Would he get the bus? Walk? There are so many options. Why the heck didn’t I pin him down on these details?
And then, when I’m in fear of my pencil shattering from my endless tap tap tap-ing , it dawns on me. I’ve worked it out. I know exactly what’s going on here! I know why he kissed me. I slump back in my chair, my mind suddenly clear. If I lived in a cartoon, there would be a big, illuminated lightbulb above my head right now.
Alex is the kind of person who delights in other people’s discomfort. Yeah, that’s it. He delights in other people’s discomfort, mine in particular, and he uses whatever tools at his disposal to achieve his goal.
Jerk.
I can just picture him smirking to himself after I stumbled out of the café kitchen. I bet he sat back down at the counter and congratulated himself on making me squirm. Who knows? Perhaps kissing me was his way to get payback for me looking at that box of photographs he didn’t want me to see? Oh, my Gosh. That’s it! He lured me in with his smiling and flirting and sexiness until I was powerless to resist him, until kissing him was really the only option open to me. He used his lips as a weapon! I should be able to report this, call the police or something. I need to warn the female population of Auckland that there’s an evil mastermind on the loose, using his masculine wiles (is that a thing?) as an extremely effective weapon.
The cheek of him! Well, if that was his plan, then I’m not falling for it again. No way. That kiss will never be repeated. It was a misunderstanding, an accidental meeting of the lips.
I’m onto you, Alex Walsh.
Now that I’ve worked him out, I’m resolved. I’m not going to let him take up another second of my time. I’ve got a job to do and a celebrity to keep happy in our lovely blue world. I am an extremely busy and important person, and Alex can go stand too close to other girls and kiss them for all I care.
And if he tries to kiss me once more, I will definitely rebuff him. I mean, puh-lease . Kiss Alex Walsh? On what planet could that ever happen again?
I’m busy undertaking the vital job of sharpening the pencil I’ve been endlessly tapping against my desk, calm in my resolve, when I get a call from the lobby.
“Hi, Darcy. I’ve got Alex Walsh here for Larissa,” Juliet, the receptionist says.
He’s here. My belly does a flip. I glance at the clock. Two thirty on the button. He must have driven. “Right. Yes. I’ll be right down.”
“Take your time,” she replies.
I detect a distinct note of girlishness in her voice that’s not usually there.
Typical. Alex will be charming the pants off her, I bet. Maybe standing too close to her, too, making out like he’s going to kiss her. Really, I should warn her about him. Sisterhood and all that. Sisters before misters, chicks before d— Oh, I forget that one.
It’s like I’ve been sitting on a spring that’s suddenly released. I bounce out of my chair and rush to the ladies’ where I do a quick check of my lipstick, pull my long hair over one shoulder, and smooth down my skirt. Just to look professional, of course, nothing more. Whether my legs look good in my black pencil skirt or not is completely irrelevant (they do, in case you were wondering).
I pull my shoulders back and walk through our offices, catch the elevator down, and stride out into the lobby. I spot him straight away. Dressed the way he was when that thing I’m no longer going to think about happened, he has one elbow resting on the reception desk as he talks to Juliet. She’s so busy blushing and giggling that she doesn’t even notice my arrival.
I clear my throat, and they both turn to look at me. “Thank you, Juliet,” I say in clipped tones.
Juliet has the good sense to look abashed. “Oh, hi, Darcy. We were just . . . talking. You know.”
She’s right. I do know. She was flirting her little hiney off with him. I want to tell her not to waste her time. Sisterhood, remember? I make a mental note to come back down and tell her after Alex has gone.
I turn to Alex and use my smooth, professional voice when I say, “Alex, good to see you again. Shall we?” I gesture toward the elevator and raise my eyebrows in expectation at him.
“We shall,” he replies, totally mocking me.
Jerk.
Gone are my feelings of guilt and regret that made me into that bumbling idiot back at the café. Gone are my confusing feelings for him that have been churning inside me all day after our kiss. He said we should move on, and that’s exactly what I’m doing, right back into “I hate Alex Walsh” territory. The status quo, where I know what’s what and how I feel.
“Good. Excellent,” I say to Alex. I turn to Juliet. “Thank you, Juliet.” Oops. I already said that. Dammit. I shoot her an embarrassed smile.
“No problem,” she replies, although she’s not even looking at me. Instead, she’s gazing up at Alex as though he’s some sort of god, here visiting us mere mortals on Earth.
I turn on my heel and stomp across the lobby toward the elevator. As I walk, I give myself a stern talking to. So what if Alex was flirting with Juliet? What does it matter to me? He can flirt with whomever he wants. It’s absolutely none of my business.
And anyway, I hate him. Totally and utterly hate him. And I would do well to remember that at all times, particularly if I ever find myself in the position I was in in the café kitchen this morning.
“You like to walk fast, huh?” Alex says as he catches up with me.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “That’s right. I’m a very busy person, you know. I’ve got lots and lots to do.”
Hmmm, yes. Like tap my pencil incessantly against my desk.
“Good to know,” he replies.
We reach the elevator and I press the “up” button. I wait, tapping my heeled foot against the marble floor. When the elevator doesn’t arrive within about two and a half seconds, I press the “up” button again.
Alex throws me a concerned look. “You okay? You seem a little stressed.”
“Yes, thank you,” I reply as I press the button for the third time. Where the heck is an elevator when you need one?
“Look, Darcy,” he begins, but I refuse to look at him. “If you’re feeling weird because of what happened between us this morning—”
“I’m fine,” I snap. Talking about kissing him has got to be almost as dangerous as doing the actual kissing.
“Are you positive you’re fine? You don’t seem it.”
“I am. I’m perfectly fine. Thank you, Alex ander .” I risk a furtive glance at him only to see a smile growing on his face. I turn away immediately. Smile equals weapon, remember?
“Alexander?” he questions.
“That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” His eyes skim over me before he adds, “Darce-ette? Darce-arina?”
A bubble of laughter rises in my throat, and I work hard to hold it in. It’s the nerves and the absurdity of the situation. Me, here with Alex, post-kiss. “You sound ridiculous,” I scoff. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
He shrugs. “Darcy’s got to be short for something, right? If it’s not those first two, maybe it’s Darc-ence?”
I bite my lips together to stop the giggle bubble from popping out. It’s getting harder to contain. “My name is Darcy.” I press the button again.
“Come on. Darce-end. You’ve got to admit that’s a little bit funny.”
I give him a condescending look. “Go flirt with Juliet. I’m sure she appreciates your humor a lot more than I ever will.”
“Oh, I see.”
I whip my head to look at him. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. It makes sense, that’s all.” He turns his attention to the elevator door.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Oh, I think it does.”
“Alex, you don’t know me, so don’t go assuming things about me. Got it?” Even though he’s completely right. Seeing him flirt with Juliet did something to me, something I’m not ready to admit.
I tap my foot some more. Where the heck is this freaking elevator?
“Sure,” he replies with a shrug. “But, for what it’s worth, that thing that happened between us before was, well, I liked it.”
I glare at him. “Well, that’s good because it’s not going to happen again. Ever.”
With his eyes intensely concentrated on me, he replies, “Pity.” He’s got that condescending smirk back on his face, and I wonder why I’ve been obsessing about this guy for the last three hours. I mean, what was I thinking? A total waste of my precious time. He’s the same old Alex Walsh: a self-centered, cocky jerk.
I return his condescending smirk with additional volume. “No, it’s not a pity.”
He turns up the dial up on his own darn smirk. “I think it is,” he pauses before he adds, “Darce-onia.”
I roll my eyes. “I told you it’s Darcy. Plain and simple.”
“Oh, believe me,” he says with a chortle, “there’s nothing plain or simple about you.”
My hands fly to my hips. “What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “It means what it says.”
The elevator pings and the doors slide open. Hallelujah .
“After you.” He gives a sweeping gesture with his arm as though he’s doing me some big favor by allowing me to enter the elevator before him.
“No, after you,” I reply. “You’re the visitor.”
“Ladies first.”
I clench my teeth. “Fine.” I walk into the elevator, followed by Fake Gentleman Alex and all his comments and shrugs and superior smiles. I press the button for my floor then turn and face the doors. As they begin to close, it occurs to me that we’re now alone for the second time today.
Well, even though it’s a total cliché for two people to make out in an elevator, particularly when those two people have already made out in the kitchen of a café on the same day, there’s no way that is going to happen.
I stand rigid, facing the doors, willing the elevator to reach my floor in record time.
He clears his throat.
I don’t look at him.
“Darcy?”
Without turning, I say, “What?”
“You’ve got something stuck to your shoe.”
I roll my eyes. There’s nothing stuck to my shoe. What is he talking about? I’m certain it’s some sort of ploy, but I look down at my feet regardless, only to see a trail of toilet paper attached to the heel of one of my shoes. Oh, no. It must have got caught on my shoe when I visited the ladies’. Of all the times for something like this to happen! Icy mortification creeps up my neck. I scuff my heel against the elevator floor to loosen the paper. It takes some effort and several attempts, and my cheeks begin to burn. “Thank you,” I mutter as I bend down to collect the offending paper in my hand.
“No problem.” There’s more than a simple note of amusement in his voice. In fact, it’s a virtual symphony. “I know you’re a really busy person with work and all, but sometimes it’s good to stop and smell the roses. Or stop and remove the toilet paper from your heel. You know, whichever one crops up.”
I shoot him a fake smile while I fume inside. Hot lava bubbles up, ready to burst out of me and burn him to cinders.
The doors slide open, and I give a silent prayer of thanks. With only a scrap of dignity left, I stride out of the elevator. I ball the offending paper, put my hand behind my back (as though that’s going to make this situation any less embarrassing), and turn to face Alex.
“Welcome to Cinnamon, Larissa Monroe’s wellness platform,” I parrot, delivering the message Larissa wants every person who visits her company to hear.
“And here I was thinking this was Smurf headquarters. Nathan would love it here.” He looks around the office. “Seriously, is everything in this place blue?”
I press my lips together and ignore his jibe. “You used that weak joke already,” I point out. And yes, it’s not that I haven’t wondered about the insane amount of blue in here before. But I’m not about to share that with Alex “kiss me in the kitchen” Walsh.
“Have a seat.” I indicate the two-seater sofas. “I’ll go see if Larissa is ready for you.”
He surveys the seating area. “Which one is Papa’s favorite? I wouldn’t want to sit there. I bet that guy has got a real temper on him.”
“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan.
He shrugs. “I’m a barista-slash-photographer-slash-comedian. Don’t you remember? In fact, I believe it was you who suggested I pursue a career in comedy. When you were at my apartment. Or was it when you were alone with me in the kitchen earlier today?”
Is he trying to put me off? Well, it’s not going to work. I put on my best motherly voice and say, “Alex, might I offer you a suggestion? Drop the Smurfs thing before you meet with Larissa. She takes the whole color therapy thing very seriously.”
“Good advice. I’ll go with an Avatar approach, shall I? More up her alley? Or maybe Cookie Monster?” He laughs at his own joke. “Oh, yeah, definitely Cookie Monster. That guy has got ‘Larissa Monroe’ written all over him.”
I shake my head in frustration. Okay, and a touch of amusement. But there’s no way I’m telling him that.
The balled piece of paper is beginning to burn a hole in my hand now. “Wait here,” I instruct. I beat a hasty retreat to the ladies’, where I dispose of the paper and wash my hands several times over (because euw, toilet paper ). I look up at my reflection in the mirror above the basin.
You can do this. He’s just a guy.
Yeah, a guy I had the most incredible kiss of my life with a mere handful of hours ago.
I suck in a breath and then blow it out. It’ll be fine. We’ll be with Larissa, talking about his work.
I smooth down my hair and square my shoulders.
I can do this.
Fully psyched, I walk back out into the offices only to find the sofa where I left him empty of one Alex Walsh. I tap on Larissa’s door. When there’s no response, I swing it open. Empty.
He’s got to be here somewhere.
I walk down the hallway and pause at Maureen’s desk. “Have you seen a guy come through here in the last few minutes?”
“You mean the one who looked like he could have stepped out of an aftershave commercial?” she asks with a grin, and I nod. “He came through here with Larissa. They’re in the Red Room.”
The Red Room. Of course. Larissa wants answers to her questions about his “higher state of consciousness.” I suppress a smile. Watching how he deals with Larissa’s questioning is going to be fun.
“Thanks,” I say to Maureen.
“Let me know if you need a 104 . It was fun this morning, although the guy who just went past didn’t look the type to me.”
“You never know, Maureen. Wolves in sheep’s clothing and all that.” She nods her agreement then I make my way through the office to the Red Room. I knock and then push the door open to see Alex and Larissa huddled over his portfolio. Alex is pointing at something, saying, “—and they’re considered the foothills of the Himalayas,” just as he had to me at his apartment.
“Fascinating,” Larissa says, clearly hanging on his every word.
Huh. Another woman falling for Alex’s charms. So predictable.
His eyes meet mine. “Oh, there you are, Darcy. Did you get the shoe emergency sorted out?”
“Shoe emergency?” Larissa questions in alarm.
“I dealt with it. It was nothing.” I give a wave of my hand while I throw Alex a series of sharpened daggers with my eyes. I turn to Larissa. “What have you got up to?”
“Oh, Alex Walsh was just telling me about the mountainous region of northern India. I feel such a connection to it, even though I’ve never been there.” She crinkles her forehead. “Why haven’t I been there, Darcy?” She tilts her head to look at me as though I have the answer.
I’m ready with my response. “Because the time hasn’t been right, Larissa. Perhaps you’d like me to schedule you a trip?”
“Yes. Yes, do that. Alex Walsh told me the Dalai Lama lives there. Did you know that, Darcy? The Dalai Lama.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I need to visit this place. It’s calling me.” She raises her hand to her ear. “Can you hear it?”
Larissa “hearing” something call to her is all par for the course in my job, but I swear I spot Alex straining to listen.
I flip open my Labrador puppy notebook. “Absolutely. What I’m going to do is take a note, and we can organize a trip for you when your calendar allows.”
“Wonderful. Now,” she says as she loops her hands around Alex’s arm, “I was just telling this incredibly talented man here that I want this exhibition to open when I launch my new line of herbal tinctures.”
My eyebrows ping right up. She’d already given me a tight timeframe, but this is insane. “Your herbal tinctures? But that’s soon, Larissa.”
“It’s in two weeks,” Alex says, and I snap my head up to gawk at him. He raises his own eyebrows in silent communication. He knows it’s an insanely short period of time to organize a gallery opening, too.
“Two weeks?” I say breathlessly.
Alex’s eyes lock onto mine. “Well, one week and five days, to be precise.”
“But . . . but that’s hardly any time at all. We need to work out what to exhibit, hanging it, catering, the guest list, the—”
“Darcy, darling, everything will fall into place, just as it always does. Trust me on this.”
I harrumph. Everything will fall into place because of all the hard work I put in.
Larissa’s hands fly to her chest, and she lets out a satisfied sigh. “I have such faith in you. Really, I do.” She reaches for Alex’s and my hands. “In both of you.”
“Err, thanks,” Alex says awkwardly.
If it wasn’t for the fact I’m freaking out about this significantly shortened timeline right now, I might have laughed.
Larissa walks toward the door. “I’ll relieve you of your other tasks, Darcy. I want you all over this one hundred percent.”
I try to swallow. My throat feels like it’s shriveled right up. “I’ll, ah, I’ll get it done.”
“We’ll get it done,” Alex corrects me.
“I know you will. I have such faith.” Larissa looks from Alex to me. “You two have a truly beautiful synergy. Did you know that?”
Yeah, a beautiful synergy that got us playing an extended game of tonsil hockey in a café kitchen only this morning.
Alex raises his eyebrows at me, his mouth lifting into a smile. “A beautiful synergy, huh?”
Larissa looks between Alex and me, her face bright. “Yes! A strong, incredible synergy that the two of you must capitalize on. I can feel it. Can you feel it?”
“Oh, I can definitely feel something,” Alex replies, his eyes not leaving my face. “Can you feel it, Darcy?”
I shoot him a withering look. Synergy or no synergy, I know one thing for absolute certain: the next week and five days working with Alex is going to be nothing short of sheer, unadulterated hell.