Page 44 of Keep Your Friends Close and Your… Work Enemy Closer?

And now, I was actually grateful that Jared's nana had insisted on us coming upstairs. Even though it was the middle of summer, visions of hot cocoa and snuggly soft afghans danced in my head.

During the ride to the top floor, I noted the elegant fixtures and recessed lighting, all while faint classical music played in thebackground. And once the doors slid open, that feeling of luxury persisted with plush carpeting in the hallway and beautiful art lining the walls.

Everything screamed money. Like millionaire/billionaire money.

Jared's grandma led the way with surprising spryness, clearly at home and confident in this space, making me think she was the wealthy one—maybe from old money, maybe someone who had always moved in circles like this, effortlessly belonging.

When Jared held the door open to their penthouse, I took in the scene in front of me, the ambiance shifting from deluxe and modern to something more homey and inviting with soft lighting, cozy furniture, and warm tones. Across the large space, there were floor-to-ceiling windows, the rain obscuring what I suspected was a fabulous view.

"First thing," Nana said, "is to get you both out of those wet clothes." She turned to Jared. "Your mom has a migraine and she's laying down, so yourco-workerwill have to wear some of your clothes. I'd offer mine but..." She waved her hand in dismissal. "You two go on and I'll get us settled in the living room."

"Thank you," I said, my mind whirling at this strange turn of events and the idea of wearing Jared's clothes. Jared's clothes! What the hell?

I turned to the man in question to see him kicking off his shoes. So I did the same, relief at getting those wet and most likely ruined things off.

"Come on, Dee. I'll show you my room." Jared grinned at me. "But we're not allowed to close the door."

"What?"

"You know, when I have girls over. Mom and Nana say I can't close the door."

My mouth gaped open, not sure what to think about that. He had to be kidding, right?

"A joke. It was a joke," he said, laughing.

"Oh, haha. Very funny." I followed him down the hallway as something hit me. "So you do live with your mom and grandma then?"

"Yes, I do," he admitted, all laughter gone from his voice, something challenging in there, a hardness to his tone that I'd never heard before. I had no idea why he'd be so defensive about it.

"That's cool," I said with a shrug as he stopped in front of a closed door and turned to me, his eyes narrowed.

The air swirled between us while he studied my face, for what I had no clue, but the man was tense, an odd change for the usually light-hearted Jared.

Did he think I thought lesser of him because of his family situation? So maybe I didn't have the highest opinion of Jared most days, but it certainly wasn't because he still lived with his mom and grandma.

So I shrugged again. "Lots of people live with their families for whatever reason."

He blinked, his eyes probably dry from staring me down about whatever he'd thought I was going to say. And then his smile was back, bigger than ever, as he opened the door in front of us.

This room was all masculine energy, sleek lines, and dark colors. A huge bed dominated one side while a sitting area with plush leather armchairs occupied the other, placed near more floor-to-ceiling windows with another fabulous view.

While I soaked in the vibe that seemed totally different from the Jared I'd been working with, the man disappeared into a large walk-in closet, coming out shortly with an armful of clothes. He tossed them casually onto the bed. "Here ya go."

There was a nervous quality to his stance that I couldn't quite pinpoint. Was it the odd situation we were in?

"You can, uh, change right here while I change in the bathroom. Unless you... wait, you should take the bathroom and I'll change out here."

I smiled, something about his unsure tone endearing. "I'm good. I'll change out here. You take the bathroom."

He nodded, once, twice, then disappeared again.

"Let me know if you need help out of your dress," he said from somewhere in the closet.

"Not going to happen."

Rolling my eyes and looking over my options, I saw that he'd included a towel, which I used to dry my hair a bit as I rifled through the clothes. There were a few t-shirts and shorts, a pair of sweats, socks, all of them with a fresh, clean scent that I realized I associated with Jared.

I reached for the zipper of my dress and tugged at it, heaving a sigh of relief that I could get it on my own. But no sooner had that sigh left my mouth than the stubborn thing seemed to get stuck. I pulled. I pulled again. And again. And nothing. The damn zipper was stuck.

---