Page 26 of Persuading Liam

I pat at my hair, now slightly self-conscious because I can’t remember even looking at it before I twisted it into a messy bun. I’ve seen the frizz this kind of weather brings out and let’s just say, I probably look a little more like I’ve been working on the electricity than the website. “I know what you mean,” I laugh awkwardly, taking in her expensive, tailored dress. “You know, you don’t have to dress quite so fancy here. Especially with all the work going on. I wouldn’t want anything to get ruined.”

Finola waves her gorgeously manicured hand through the air. “Oh, don’t worry about this, it’s last season.”

“Right,” I answer, wondering what she would say if she knew my jeans were all season, every season, for the last five-ish years.

She looks around the place and smiles. “It’s come so far even since last week,” she mentions. I detect a genuine excitement that calms my nerves a bit. “I love the color combo you’ve got going on.” She turns and bestows a compliment on me with a pointed finger as if she is a fairy godmother. “You have exceptional taste.”

“Thank you,” I answer, feeling more pleased than I probably should. I motion to her desk. “I got your station set up this weekend. It’s fully adjustable.” I hit a button to raise the desk. “You can stand, sit, whatever works for you.”

Her eyes flash. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you. I get fidgety if I sit too long. This will be perfect. Do you mind if I accessorize a little bit?”

“Not at all, it’s your space. I want you to feel comfortable. And let me know if you don’t like the chair. I’m putting in an order next week for the conference room and I can throw it on there.”

Finola smiles at me even though I’m talking too fast and too much. “Thank you.” She sets her tiny pink clutch down on her desk, essentially planting her flag. “Now, what do you want me to work on today?”

I grimace just a little before answering because I’m not sure if she’s going to like my answer. “There isn’t much to do yet in terms of the paper, but there are tons of old issues, articles, and receipts that need to be sorted and scanned into our new system so we can make room.”

“I can do that,” she answers brightly, and I wonder for a moment if she was nervous too about what I might ask of her. “Show me where to start.”

With an almost relieved smile, I lead her to the boxes in the second office. “You can start here. Use whatever system works for you. The conference room is still being worked on, but there is floor space in the printing room if you need to spread out. I trust you.”

Her eyes flash to mine at the last sentence, and the confidence typically on her face slips for a moment. “You trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Oh.” Her face brightens into a smile. “Thank you. I’m going to get to work.”

“I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

She nods, already picking up a box that spills over with yellowed documents, and I leave the room understanding a littlemore about her. Gorgeous, doted on, pampered, but never given anything to really do.

I can work with that.

18

LIAM

“Listen, man,” Max says to me after we close on Monday night. I’m sitting in my office staring at my blank computer screen like it has the answer to all my troubles. It doesn’t.

He shuts the door behind him and approaches my desk, his hulking form dwarfing the entire room. “I don’t really know what’s going on but hiding in your office twenty-four-seven is not going to make it better.”

I collapse against the back of my chair and close my eyes. They feel dry and heavy from staring at the screen, from lack of sleep, from the guilt of kissing Marley and then disappearing like a toddler that stole a cookie. I can’t even decide which is worse.

I can hear Max settle into one of the chairs across from me. “Gus and Elliot both went home. It’s just you and me, so talk.”

With a heavy sigh, I open my eyes and shrug. “I kissed Marley.”

Max’s gaze doesn’t waver, and he just watches my every expression like a hawk—which is new. The old Max could only process his own emotions and I’m not sure I like being called onthe carpet. “What’s the problem?” He asks after I don’t expound. “Was it a bad kiss? Was she not interested?”

“No,” I answer a little too quickly. “It was good,” I breathe, spearing a hand through my hair, trying to settle my spinning thoughts into a coherent explanation. “A little too good. And I think she thought so too. But…”

Max waits patiently, his meaty hands resting calmly in his lap. I wonder briefly at how quickly we changed places—how I was the calm serene one and he was the emotional hurricane and now it’s me with the thunder and lightning.

“And I don’t know,” I bluster, feeling angry at everything for no reason. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What isn’t?”

“Going further, getting to know her more, trying a relationship, because it’s just going to end like all the rest.”

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