Page 20 of Worth the Fall

The evening light filtering through the office windows casts a soft glow across them, and I'm finding it harder by the second to focus on the legal language in front of me. My hand brushes hers as I point out another clause, and the simple contact sends heat racing up my arm.

She's close enough that I can feel her warmth, smell her her perfume again that makes me want to bury my face in her neck. The way she bites her lower lip in concentration is driving me insane, and I have to force myself to remember we're here to work.

"I should go," I say, but my feet refuse to move toward the door, even though this is my office. It’s the only thing I can think to bring any rationality to myself. When she looks up at me, her green eyes dark in the dim light, all my carefully constructed professional boundaries start to crumble.

"You should," she agrees softly, but there's something in her voice that pulls me closer instead of away. The space between us feels electric, charged with building tension.

Before I can stop myself, I'm stepping into her space, close enough to see the slight hitch in her breathing. "Or…" My voice comes out rougher than intended. "We could discuss this further."

"The contract?" Her attempt at professionalism falters, her voice breathy in a way that makes my blood run hot.

"No." I can't resist anymore—my hand comes up to cup her face, my thumb tracing her bottom lip. "Not the contract."

The building's evening cleaning service chooses that moment to start vacuuming outside my office, shattering the tension. Mia jumps slightly, almost dropping her iPad, and I catch it reflexively. Our hands brush and that same spark from the coffee shop jolts through me.

"Thanks," she murmurs, but neither of us moves to break the contact.

"We should—" I start.

"Maybe we could—" she says at the same time.

We both laugh, breaking some of the tension, but our hands are still touching, and I swear I can feel her pulse racing as fast as mine.

"You first," I manage, trying to sound more composed than I feel.

She bites her lip, drawing my attention right back to her mouth. "I was thinking maybe we could discuss this somewhere else? Somewhere more…" Her eyes dart to the vacuum cleaner still droning outside. "Quiet?"

"Yes," I say too quickly, then try to rein it in. "I mean, if you want to. For the contract review."

"Right. The contract." Her thumb brushes across my knuckles where our hands are still connected over her iPad. "Very professional."

The cleaning cart rattles past my door and she startles again, this time actually dropping the iPad. We both reach for it, bumping heads in the process.

"Sorry!" we say in unison, then laugh again.

She's so close now, practically between my legs as we both crouch to retrieve the tablet. When she looks up at me through her lashes, that professional veneer cracking just enough to show she's as affected as I am, all my careful restraint starts to crumble.

"Mia," I say softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face before I can stop myself. "Maybe we should talk about?—"

A sharp knock at my door has us jumping apart like guilty teenagers.

Tarryn stands in the doorway, maintaining her perfect professionalism despite the obvious tension in the room. "Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Ramirez, but security is doing their final walkthrough and I’m heading out. They need to know if you'll be much longer."

"We were just…" I gesture vaguely at the iPad now clutched against Mia's chest, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Reviewing contracts," she finishes quickly, smoothing her skirt as she stands. "Very thorough review. Of contracts."

"Of course," Tarryn says smoothly, though I catch that knowing glint in her eye again. "Should I inform them you'll need more time for your… contract review?"

"No!" we both say too quickly.

"We could…" I look at Mia, trying to find the right words that won't sound too forward but also won't let this evening end here. "There's a place around the corner. For coffee. If you wanted to continue our discussion."

"Coffee would be good," she says softly, meeting my eyes with a smile that makes my heart flip. "Professional coffee. For contract purposes."

"Purely professional," I agree, even as my hand finds the small of her back after we gather our things.

The elevator ride down is charged with everything we're not saying. She stands close enough that our arms brush, and each point of contact sends electricity through me. We're both pretending to check our phones, but I catch her stealing glances at me in the reflective doors.

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