Page 63 of Sleeping with Her Enemy (49th Floor 2)

He followed her to the porch after she’d said her final good-byes and slipped on his shoes. “At least let me walk you to the subway.”

“No, thanks. Really.” She wasn’t meeting his eyes. Rummaging through her bag, she produced a pair of earbuds. “I’ve got my music. I’m good.”

When he tried to overrule her, she held up a hand. “It’s been a very…social day. I’m looking forward to a little solo walk.”

Okay. She didn’t want company. Message received. He wondered if he should kiss her good-bye, even just on the cheek, but before he could move, she’d hopped off the porch.

“Bye.” She waved, but she still wasn’t looking at him.

Right.

When she’d said, while they were having sex, that she wasn’t looking for anything serious, he’d agreed hurriedly, reflexively. It hadn’t been news to him—that had been the whole point, right? She’d been singing variations on the same refrain for weeks now. So he’d thought she was saying that, in the heat of the moment, to remind herself. To keep herself to her plan. Because Amy Morrison was nothing if not a planner.

He leaned against the doorframe and watched her disappear around the corner.

At the time, in the heat of the moment, he’d thought she was talking to herself.

But no. Apparently she’d been talking to him.

Because he’d needed to hear that.

He thought of Allison. And why he didn’t do relationships.

This was not good.

Chapter Thirteen

It wasn’t like she expected him to call. Why should she? She’d told him she wasn’t looking for anything serious, and apparently he’d taken her at her word.

Still, by the time Wednesday rolled around and Amy hadn’t heard a peep from Dax, hadn’t even laid eyes on him at the office, she started to get a little weirded out. She was driving over to his parents’ house that evening to pick up his mother, for God’s sake.

She needed a handbook. Probably there was unspoken etiquette for what to do after you slept with your colleague and arranged to manipulate his aging parents into moving into a condo, but she must have called in sick the day they covered that. Or been too busy planning out her life with Mason.

The worst part was she kept thinking maybe she had done something wrong. Made an idiot of herself without realizing it. She should have stuck with her plan to keep her personal life separate from the office. That’s what she’d told herself about why she had rejected Steve, so what was different with Dax?

Dax turned her insides to goo, that’s what was different.

And when she pulled up out outside his parents’ tidy bungalow that evening, she was immediately goo-ified. Because there he was, dressed for the office in a gray summer suit, his lavender tie loosened, long limbs sprawling as he sat on the top step of the porch.

She grinned. She couldn’t help it. Tried, in absence of the “how to behave” handbook, to temper it, but failed spectacularly. How could any woman with a pulse not smile when presented with the prospect of all six foot two of besuited Dax Harris jogging down the stairs to meet her, an answering grin on his stubbled face?

“I’m crashing your little party.”

She flicked his lapel—he didn’t wear suits every day. “You clean up nice. What gives?”

“Raising a round of venture financing for a new app. Met with some potential investors today.”

“Yeah? What are you working on?” Amy realized that other than a couple of their high-profile products, she really had no idea what Cherry Beach Software actually did. More surprising, she was genuinely interested in knowing the answer.

“It’s an app you use at restaurants. When you eat somewhere, you enter what you had, and how you liked it. It learns your preferences, and it scrapes reviews from everywhere on the web. So the idea is when you go to a restaurant you’ve never been to, the algorithm figures out what your ideal order is based on reviews and your tastes.”

“That’s actually kind of cool.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“It’s like an app guaranteed to prevent order envy,” she said. “I hate it when I feel like I haven’t ordered the best thing.”

---