Page 20 of Dance with Me on New Year's Eve

When I sat and glanced up at him, he hadn’t moved. His hands were still flat on the closed laptop, and his usual grim expression was staring back at me. It was sad that he always looked grumpy because he was actually a good-looking guy. Objectively. Not that I wouldeverbe into him. But I supposed some women would.Glancing quickly at his left hand, I noticed his ring finger was bare. Not surprising—not that I was in any position to judge though.

Before I could open my mouth to ask about the laptop thing, he rose abruptly, briefly tensing his hands before they fell to his side. “Right, thanks for coming, albeit late. We need to review the latest quotes from the subcontractors.” He paused,pressing his lips together. “Well, I’ve already reviewed them, but I figured you would want input.”

“Yeah, it’s called being a partner.” I was so tired of this attitude from him—so beyond tired. “Not like you’d understand,” I muttered while examining the polished hunter-green floor tiles.

When I looked up, he was now standing only a couple feet away, leaning against the front of the desk. “Are you implying I don’t know how a partnership works?”

My eyes must have been golf balls by then. My heart raced as I took in his scent. Wait, what? He never wore cologne.

Or did he?

Maybe I’d never been close enough to notice.

My heart raced as I considered that, my eyes slowly rising to meet his.

And he … he saw me. He watched me as my eyes swept slowly over his surprisingly fine form.

He saw you checking him out. This is rock bottom for you, Roxy.

My face heated and my knuckles whitened as I gripped the sides of the chair. I was about to combust into flames. Flames of awkwardness, of something else I couldn’t define.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I took a slow breath and then met his eyes. “Never mind,” I said coolly, raising my chin.

He shook his head slightly and sighed as he picked up a water bottle from the other side of his desk. “So, are you ready to get started?”

“Started on …” I tilted my head, looking at him curiously but oddly a bit dazed.

“On work! What is wrong with you?”

I gasped indignantly. “Wow, that is rude, even for you, Jeffrey.”

He exhaled loudly and fought to keep the irritation off his face, only partially succeeding. My eyes followed the direction of his, pointed at some interesting spot on the floor.

At this time during a conversation with virtually anyother person, I’d usually try to make amends, keep the peace, and all that. But I was tired of always meekly avoiding conflict, and Jeff didn’t truly intimidate me. He probably should, but he didn’t.

So I stubbornly remained silent as we both studied the floor tiles.

Finally, his voice jarred me out of my incessant thinking. “Fine. Forget I said anything. Can we move on? I’d like to—”

“Yes, I know. You want to get on with the important thing: work.” I smirked, annoyed at his non-apology and the irritable way he’d delivered it.

“Well, yes. This is a work meeting, Roxanne,” he reminded me in a condescending tone.

Oh … well, he had a point. It’s not like Jeff and I were two friends meeting to chat, or two lovers—woah, where did that come from—we were colleagues, and not by choice.

Wait.

Oh my—does he think …

No.

He wouldn’t think I was implying that we were on a date or something, right?Right?

Damage control. Now!

“You do know that most colleagues actually do talk about things other than work, right? Or were you unaware?” I forced a smile. “Are you the exception?”

“I believe in efficiency. Water cooler chat just wastes time.”

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