Page 6 of That Time in Venice
“The pleasure was all mine, Reed,” Laura drawled, a spark of interest emerging in the depths ofhereyes.
Anika cleared her throat. “My office is upstairs. Follow me,please.”
Reed pulled up the rear as Anika walked down the hall and up the stairs toward her office. He’d been completely unprepared for her appearance, which had left him temporarily speechless. She was even prettier than he remembered, captivating—not unlike the very first time he spotted her as a new hire going through orientation, chewing on the end of a pen and occasionally taking what appeared to be detailed notes in a small spiralboundpad.
As she walked ahead of him into her office, his gaze outlined her torso. Her body was fuller. Riper. The feminine curve of her waist and hips were outlined by the high-waisted tan pants and cream-colored blouse that played well against her light brown skin. Gold heels added a few inches to her frame, bringing her little more than up to the tip of his nose. Her dark hair, highlighted with golden-blonde and framing her heart-shaped face, swept past her neck and slid across her shoulders in a smooth sweep of shinystrands.
Inside her office he shut the door, inhaling the scent of citrus and ginger, a subtle but pleasing aroma that filled the room. This didn’t surprise him at all. Anika was a girly girl, sugar and spice and all things nice. The kind who drew hearts over the letter “i” in her words and wore soft, flowing fabrics in pastel colors. Soft-spoken and friendly, she came across as a kitten, but oh man, in bed, the kitten turned into atigress.
“This office suits you,” Reed said, glancingaround.
Framed quotes on the wall offered positive and inspirational remarks about life and love. Bright pink, orange, and gold-colored boxes sat on white shelves with knickknacks and books, arranged in such a way to be functional but also artistic. The rest of the room was decorated in a similar colorful fashion, with a drafting table and high-backed stool in front of it, photos on the wall depicting water colors of flowers and other plant life, and a small bookcase filled with pastel-colored three-inch binders behind her desk. Everything indicated the person who occupied this space contained a vibrant, vivaciouspersonality.
Standing behind her desk, Anika opened a blue and pink planner and flipped through the pages. “Let’s see, which day should I come by?Ihave—”
“It’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? Running into eachother?”
“Yes, quite a coincidence.” She kept her attention on the planner. “I can meet with you on Wednesday or Thursday, if you’re free. My schedule is wide open in the afternoon on boththosedays.”
He couldn’t stop staring at her. “How haveyoubeen?”
Her gaze lifted to his face. “Excuseme?”
“How haveyoubeen?”
He wanted to know everything. What had she been doing in the intervening years? Where did she live? How long had she been working in interior design? Was she seeing anyone or married? His gaze dropped to her left hand, and his brain became drenched in unexpected relief when he saw her barefingers.
He hadn’t been able to forget Anika and almost immediately regretted not staying in touch. If he had the opportunity to relive their last moments together, he’d handle the separation differently. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t have left at all. He’d never regretted anything the way he regretted leaving her that day. Maybe—just maybe, fate was giving him anotherchance.
“I’m okay. Nothing special going on with me.” She seemed guarded, her answer purposelyvague.
“I seriously doubt that. Do you enjoyyourjob?”
“Yes.”
The clipped response didn’t deter him. “Have you livedanywhereelse?”
“No, but I don’t think I could. I love my city.” Sheshrugged.
“No shameinthat.”
She focused on the planner again. “What’s your schedule like laterthisweek?”
“Slow down. I want to talk and catch up alittle.”
“Why?”
The question caught him off guard. “What do you mean, why?Because…”
“Because what? I have to do agoodjob.”
“I understand, and I don’t doubt that you will, but…” He blew out a frustrated breath of air. He was so desperate to talk to her and find out how she’d been, while she seemed completely uninterested in engaging in any kind of small talk. “Would it hurt to take a few minutes tocatchup?”
“I’m extremely busy. As you can see.” She gestured toward her desk, the neat and orderly appearance doing nothing to substantiate theclaim.
“Why are you beingsocold?”
“I’m sorry, were you expecting a hug andakiss?”
