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As soon as I dismiss her, I catch sight of Nia down the hall, slipping into a conference room, and march toward her. When I approach from behind and grab her shoulders, she gasps and whirls to me with a frown.

“I didn’t expect you here, especially so soon. You didn’t like Felice, either?”

“No. I escorted her out and came to find you. We need to talk, and it can’t wait.”

She gives me an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. I need to run some errands for lunch.”

“You’re avoiding me.” In fact, given that she’s set up a makeshift work station in here, it’s clear she’s camped in this room for that purpose.

“I’m giving you privacy.” She drops her voice. “You’re interviewing for a wife. I’m sure you don’t want me to overhear your conversations.”

Is that really why she’s been keeping her distance? I don’t know and I’m tired of guessing.

“I don’t care if you hear my conversations. You and I bypassed strictly professional when we hooked up. You asked me if we were having casual sex or starting a relationship. You said you didn’t see any reason for us to spend time together until I could answer that question. Now I can.” I shut the door. “We’re going to talk.”

Since Nia has always been independent and forthright about expressing her opinions, I’m not shocked when she crosses her arms over her chest and raises that dark brow at me like I’ve pissed her off.

With a sigh, I realize I have to stop demanding. First, she’s not merely an employee. Second, that tactic will never work with her.

“Please. Sit,” I add as I grab the closest chair and plop in it.

She hesitates, then lowers herself into the big leather chair beside me. “All right. Let’s talk.”

“After a great deal of consideration, I’ve realized the status quo isn’t working. I can’t work with you and be purely professional anymore. To manage that, I can transfer you to Bas or another of the executives⁠—”

“That’s how you’re going to deal with what happened between us?” Nia leaps out of her chair, betrayal streaking across her face. “Listen, you barged into my dressing room and acted butt-sore because I was dancing in public—which you had no right to do. Burlesque is something I’ve been doing for almost five years. I love it. I so look forward to Saturday night. But suddenly you were in my face, practically foaming at the mouth about what, my lack of modesty? My partnering with someone I screwed a couple years ago? But I got caught up in the moment, believing you’d only be jealous if you felt something for me. Afterward, I remembered you’re not emotional and probably hadn’t had sex in months.” She sniffs. “I’ve given you three years and now my body, Evan. I could be pregnant. And your response is to get rid of me? Fuck that. I quit.”

When she glares my way and barrels toward the door, I jump from my chair. I’ve got one shot to grab her before she escapes. Thankfully, I snag her by the wrist. Tightening my fingers, I draw her in until our chests brush. This is the closest I’ve been to her in over a week. All at once, I’m soothed and stirred. I don’t know what to think or how to stop the loss of control. The only thing I know is the truth.

“I won’t accept your resignation. You’re right that I’m not normally emotional. But this…is different. Being with you makes me different. I can’t not want you. Suddenly, when you’re around, my concentration is shot. I don’t have the control I should. And if I don’t change something, it’s only a matter of time before people guess what happened between us.”

She cocks a fist on one hip. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so awful. Dunstead is dating Melissa, that customer service manager. They’re not hiding anything. And they’re making it work. Why would we be any different?”

“Because she works with him, not for him. Their contact on the job is limited to an occasional meeting. You’re barely six feet from me most every day. How long do you think it would take before I started peeling off your clothes in the office? And what happens if our relationship goes south? It will be awkward. And the possibilities for sexual harassment lawsuits are almost endless.”

“So, because you can’t handle yourself or you’re worried I’m petty enough to hire some shyster to rip you a new asshole, you’re going to demote me?”

“No. You’re misunderstanding. If it comes to that, you won’t lose salary or benefits.” Somehow, I’m saying this all wrong. We’re getting into an argument I never anticipated and I’m unprepared for. How do I turn things around? Becca never argued with me, so this entire interaction is foreign.

“But people will talk,” she counters. “They’ll speculate about why you suddenly kicked me to the curb professionally. They’ll either think I couldn’t handle my job anymore or they’ll realize I was fucking the boss. Either way, my credibility will be shot.”

Nia has valid points.

“All right, then. Once I move to Maui, you stay here in Seattle and continue to report to me.” Then I won’t be tempted every moment I’m in the office with her.

“Our opportunities to see each other will be limited.” Her tone is neutral, but it paints a picture I don’t like.

“Forget I said that,” I bark even as I mentally acknowledge my suggestion would solve a lot of problems. But for a reason I’m unable to pinpoint, I can’t have Nia that far from me. “Last week, you offered to move to Hawaii, and I said I would consider it. I’m far more efficient and productive when I have you with me. So I think you need to come, maybe work for Bas.”

“But if I’m working for him, then I won’t be organizing you.”

Is she just determined to be argumentative today? “Or we could forget this entire debate about where you’ll be living and who you’ll be working for. And you could simply marry me.”

Nia freezes. “What?”

“I don’t want these ‘candidates’ you’ve lined up, none of whom suit me, by the way.”

“You’ve only talked to four.”