Page 42 of Pure Abandon

“That was before we were friends.” He pauses to look around the room. “Where is the umbrella?”

Oh shoot. The umbrella. It’s still under my desk in the box.

“It hasn’t rained so I haven’t had a chance to use it.”

His eyes light up and a satisfied smile brightens his face. “So you’re keeping it. Good. I picked it out just for you. My olive branch.”

“Olive branch accepted. But no more gifts. I mean it, Asher!”

“Asher? I like the stern connotation in your voice.” He’s mocking me with his eyes and his mouth.

“I’ll keep the umbrella, but the staff enjoys the roses. And yes, Asher, no more gifts!”

“Okay, okay. No more gifts. I’ve never had a woman tell me that twice.”

“I’m glad you’re counting.” I laugh lightly. I really want to dislike this man, but he’s so magnetic. As hard as I try, my eyes never leave his. The current between us is building. I know he can feel it too. Thank God for the desk as a barrier to our indiscretion.

Breaking the spell, Asher shakes his head and stares at the floor. He takes a breath and puts his hands on his legs, rising from the chair.

“All right. That’s all.” Just like that, the playful man is gone and back is the commanding CEO. “I want to see the new rundown with the amended time next week. Call my office and make an appointment.”

I feel awkward and slightly displaced. “Yes, sir.”

He is half out the door, his back to me, when he halts and speaks over his shoulder. “And, Gray. She’s not married… yet.”

If I could see his face, I’d swear there is a smile on it as he references the woman he went home with at the museum. Asher exits my office, closing the door behind him.

My shoulders drop and I realize how tense I am. I don’t think I’ve relaxed in the last two hours.

He’s back to being my mystery man.

Ugh, and I thought I said no nicknames.

Just because Asher has decided to form a truce between the two of us doesn’t mean I’m not on pins and needles with the thought of going to his office. I tried to get out of it. After perfecting the rundown this morning, I emailed it to him, hoping he’d approve it as he did the last set of documents.

To my surprise, my computer lets out a ping sound, signaling a new email in my inbox.

TIME: THURSDAY, JULY 8 10:04 A.M.

TO: GRAYSON, KATHRYN

FROM: ASHER, ALEXANDER

SUBJECT: YOU, ME, MEETING…

NOW

: )

At least he used a smiley face.

The elevator takes me up to the penthouse. It feels a long way away from the twenty-fourth floor.

When the doors open, I’m greeted with a reception area similar to the one Trish sits at, but more grandiose and missing a redhead. A woman I assume is Asher’s assistant, Cecelia, greets me. I had to call her, rather embarrassingly, asking if I should go up to the penthouse or if the meeting would be taking place in my office. I really had no idea.

She answered with a serious tone. “Mr. Asher travels for no one.”

I wanted to be snotty and tell her he’s been in my office twice since I met him, but the point is moot.