Page 33 of Mark my Words

“That’s not...” I sighed, unsure how to phrase it without sounding like a self-centered bitch. “I appreciate your being willing to take one for the team, Sam, but I’m not sure if you going will just complicate things more.”

“As a friend, Kristine. I told you there wasn’t an agenda here.” Those words may have come out of his mouth, but the sincere look of compassion in his eyes, the way he was leaning into my personal space, and the fingers on his other hand gently grazing mine indicated that we’d gone beyond being able to pretend we were just friends or coworkers. The lines were too blurry now, and being under the Willard microscope would only magnify our chemistry.

“You say that now, but—“

“I think I can manage to keep my hands off you for one evening.”

“Can you?” I nodded to his fingers as I pressed my hand against the center of his chest.

“The question is—“ He leaned in close, his lips grazing my ear. “Can you?”

“One night, Sam.”

He nodded as he straightened up, clearing his throat and stepping backward. “Got it.”

SAM

BOSTON

Kristine was right to tease me. I was struggling with the compulsion to touch her—even if it was to calm her down. She’d been so tightly wound in that conference room that it shook me a little. She was known around the office for being an ice queen, an emotionless robot who didn’t smile, much less socialize with the rest of us in a way that made her appear human.

I’d known, of course, that she was capable of much deeper emotions than scathing sarcasm or surly indifference, but as her brother was ruffling her feathers, she’d been positively panicked. When Sloane had announced the position in the New York office, I thought she’d jump all over the contemporary romance position, clearly the front runner with her experience, but she’d frowned as if someone had just killed her puppy. Wouldn’t she jump on the chance to go home?

I knew if a position in the Chicago office became available, I would be all for it, regardless of genre, at the chance to be closer to my family. If she could, my mother would beg, borrow, and steal to get me an opportunity like that.

After I returned home from work, I texted Kristine to check on her. She’d seemed upset and distracted the rest of the meeting, and I couldn’t get the haunted look in her eyes out of my head when I’d cornered her in Isobel’s office.

Sam: Are you sure you’re alright?

Kristine: Fine.

Sam: It’s okay if you’re not. You can talk to me.

Kristine: Would you just lay off it, Spamela?

And we were back to the aggressive name-calling. That was never a good sign.

Sam: Fill me in. What topics do we avoid this evening?

Kristine: The first one would be that you’ve seen me naked.

Sam: While one of my favorite topics, noted.

Kristine: Quit being cute and only stick to our professional relationship. If I steer the conversation correctly, Greg will spend most of the night talking about himself.

Sam: Got it. You’re in charge. ;)

Kristine: Don’t be a smartass.

Sam: I’m not. I liked it when you were in charge.

A lot. So much so that I couldn’t stop myself from reminiscing about what it’d felt like when she rocked her hips over mine in that sinuous rhythm. Back and forth, round and round, and okay...I could see her point. No imagining her naked, no matter how tempting it got...

Kristine: He cannot know that we are more than colleagues.

Sam: Are we more than that? He must suspect something. He was somewhat suggestive.

Kristine: He’s a nosy asshole who will tell my mother everything. Do not give him ammunition against me.

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