Chapter 23
twenty-three
The partners of James’s firm arrive an hour later. After giving them a lengthy tour of the property and answering every question, I’m fairly certain they’ll write a letter of intent. But still, I’m cautiously excited.
Before they leave, I shake everyone’s hand and wish them a nice weekend. They funnel out of the lobby, appearing pleased.
“When will you have the floor plans with the current conditions available?” James pulls his wool coat over his shoulders and straightens his lapels. He secures the buttons.
“They’re ready. I’ll run back to the offi—” My words fade when I remember Evan’s at the office waiting for me.
I can’t afford for this day to take a turn for the worse.
I clear my throat and continue. “Actually, now that think about it, I can access them from my laptop at home. I’ll run there and send them out. ”
“Can I take you? I have a car waiting outside.”
I consider his offer. The sooner I deliver the floor plans, the quicker negotiations can start. “That’s nice. Thank you.”
Outside the building, James opens the back door of a dark sedan. He slides in after me. With the car’s tinted windows, the space darkens when he pulls the door shut. The driver weaves the car into traffic.
It’s Friday during rush hour. The roads are jam-packed. Brake lights glow red and horns honk. Our crawl doesn’t seem to bother James. He’s chatty, his hands animated when he speaks, and flirty and charming with his compliments.
If things were different, I might give him a chance.
But if things were different, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now.
I do my best to steer the conversation toward the deal, toward the weather, toward anything other than us.
When the car glides to a stop outside my building, I reach for the handle to escape.
“I’ll run upstairs to send the plans, and then I’ll be back to chat.” I press the door open with my foot and slide out.
“Take your time. I have some calls to make.”
I hurry up the stoop, past Evan’s door, and climb to the sixth floor. In my apartment, I drop my bag on the counter and go to work. I don’t even bother closing the door. This should only take a few minutes.
After the email has been sent, there’s a knock at my open door. I cringe before I look up.
“Find everything?” James steps inside with his hands in his pockets.
“How did you know which apartment?” I shut the laptop.
“I’m psychic.” James taps his head and enters, shutting the door behind him.
“Right, the mailboxes.” I slide a printed copy of the floor plans into an envelope and hand it to James. He accepts it, and as his gaze drifts away, he fumbles with the envelope.
“Cait, now that this is somewhat settled, would you have any interest in joining me for dinner?” The overly confident James is gone. He’s now hesitant and bashful. Multiple rejections can do that to a person.
This isn’t how I imagined letting him down. My gaze flits around the room as I adjust my stance. I’m buying myself time to compose a proper response, one that won’t hurt his feelings. I do like him. He’s a good guy. It’s me who’s all wrong for him.
Before I can answer, there’s another knock at the door. My head swings toward it, but I remain still, hoping whoever’s there will go away. But when they knock again, a knot of tension forms at the base of my skull.
“Can I get that?” James asks with a raised brow.
“Yes, I mean, no. I’ll get it.” I attempt a smile but end up gritting my teeth.
My heels click the wood floor as I cross the room. If I move slowly enough, maybe whoever it is will leave before I arrive. I suck in a deep breath and open the door.
As expected, Evan stands on the other side. One arm is raised above his head, his elbow leaning into the door frame. His body language implies he wasn’t sure if I would answer, or worse, that he’d given up on me answering.
He glances up from beneath his thick fringe of lashes, appearing tired. His eyelids droop, and a faint half moon of purplish skin sits beneath each eye. I want to ask him if he’s okay, but I need to keep this short. James is here.
“What’s up?” I keep it casual, friendly.
Evan rakes his gaze over me like he has so many times before, but this time is different. It’s not sexual. He’s assessing me and pleading with his eyes.
Does he want me to say something? I can’t read him, but I wish I could. I catch myself before I become too engaged. I cross my arms over my chest, holding myself back. I need to lock my emotions down. We’re nothing and never will be.
“You’ve been ignoring me.” Evan steps forward, but I inch the door closed to stop him. He halts in surprise.
“This isn’t a good time.” I speak through the narrowed crack, the space big enough to fit the width of my body.
“There will never be a good time.”
He steps toward me, crowding me, and I instinctively step back. If I were ready for it, I could have held my ground, but I hesitate and then he’s inside. I press a hand to his chest, preventing him from coming any further. My face is a steely mask.
“I promise I’ll find you later, okay?” I want to appeal to him, but this is what I get for brushing him off for days, weeks.
“Everything okay?” James approaches and takes a protective stance behind me, an imposing figure.
It seems Evan’s only now seeing him. His eyes widen.
Uneasy, I step aside so Evan and James are facing each other. “James, this is Evan, my landlord. Evan, James. My client from Lakeman, Shire and Black.”
My introductions are curt. I want to make it clear I don’t intend for either to interact past this moment.
If I were still playing a game with Evan, I would have called James my date.
James would have delighted in it, but now there’s no need to let Evan believe otherwise.
Besides, I need to send him a message. Be on your best behavior.
Despite my explanation, a spark of jealousy flickers in Evan’s eyes.
I recall the same pained expression when he met Lou.
Though it shouldn’t matter at this point, there’s still something inside me that aches because I did that to him.
I made Evan jealous for no reason. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want him to go away.
James reaches out to shake Evan’s hand. When their grasps connect, their knuckles whiten. Their gazes lock, and silent territorial warnings seem to pulse between them. I clear my throat and cross my arms at the rising tension. At the sound of my annoyance, their grips release.
“I also came looking for a hammer Gusterson left.” Evan’s gaze scours the room. This is an outright lie. In the messages he left, he never once mentioned a missing hammer, but I play along to get rid of him.
“Feel free to check.” I gesture down the hall.
Evan stands straighter, maybe to match James’s height. Even though they’re matched in body mass, James is taller. When Evan marches past, James relaxes some but makes his own play.
He places a gentle hand on my arm and speaks low, murmuring promises about the restaurant he wants to take me to. “You’ll love this place; the wine list is superb and the soup is to die for.”
Evan’s in the other room making a ruckus. The noises escalate as the seconds pass. To say he’s purposely creating a distraction would be an understatement.
“Need any help in there, buddy?” James offers.
Evan peeks out from the bathroom. The muscles in his neck flex as he studies James with a stone-faced expression. At his side, he grips a hammer, and it looks like he wants to slam it into James’s face.
“Nah, man. I’m good.” He relaxes and flashes a familiar cocky grin, the one I haven’t seen in weeks. He’s gloating, like he knows he’s seen me naked and James hasn’t. If I could make him understand that James isn’t competition, he might drop this absurd macho act.
Evan crosses to leave but pauses behind me to lean down and whisper near my ear. “Still dreaming about our night together, aren’t you?” His halfhearted attempt at a whisper is too loud on purpose.
My eyes fly wide open, and I whirl on him. Who the hell does he think he is? This volley is so far out of the playing field, I want to kill him.
I raise my hand and slap Evan across his cheek with the force of my humiliation. His head whips to the side. My stinging hand falls away as I step back and survey the damage—a searing red handprint on his skin.
His head jerks back, his jaw locking into place and shoulders squaring. A muscle jumps in his jaw, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Not a chance.” My lips tremble as I deliver the lie.
It doesn’t matter now if his statement was true. He’s gone too far by interfering with his misplaced jealousy.
I point a shaky finger toward the hallway. I want him out. Now.
Without a word, Evan stomps out, slamming the front door as he leaves. The framed photos hanging on the wall nearby rattle, and I flinch at the sound.
“Shall I kick his ass?” James asks, only half joking.
My elbows squeeze tight at my sides as my embarrassment returns in full force. “I’m so sorry.” My hands frame my clammy face. “That was so unprofessional. He was so—so—”
“Jealous.” He finishes my sentence.
“I should explain.” Overwhelmed, I’m scrambling, my thoughts a wreck. My perfect work mask has faltered and my chaotic personal life has crashed in, creating a hot mess. This isn’t the impression I want to make.
“No need,” James says, doing his best to put me at ease. “And I know a chocolate cake that can make all of this disappear.” He snaps his fingers.
I release a tense laugh but then realize my mistake. I don’t want him to read my reaction as acceptance.
He must sense my resistance, because he adds, “It’ll be business.
We can review the floor plans together, make notes.
First thing Monday, I’ll present the partners with the drafted LOI and plans.
After that, the lawyers can duke out the lease.
” He waves the envelope. “Besides, leaving the building might be good for you.”