Page 48 of Miss Matched

Zac

There’snomissingthe click of stilettos crossing the lobby, announcing Kennedy’s arrival. Today she’s in a perfectly tailored pantsuit that shows off her trim waist and long legs, hugging every curve. The deep red of it brings attention to her heart-shaped lips, and I have to fight the urge to rip open the gold buttons holding her blazer together.

She tucks a chunk of honey brown hair behind her ear, and I catch an unexpected expression on her face.

Disappointment, sadness?

She’s focused on her phone and doesn’t notice me waiting outside her office door. Part of me is dreading what I’ll find in her eyes when she finally spots me. After three unreturned calls and two clipped texts, she’s made it clear she wants some distance. If only my body would let me give it to her.

I couldn’t stay away if I tried. And not because we have business to discuss. I want to see her. Need to see her. To hear that laugh, feel her heat, smell that coconut shampoo. It’s been twenty-four hours without a call or text, and I’m itching.

Kennedy stops at the reception desk to pick up the mail, and Racine rushes over to whisper something in her ear. When Kennedy finally looks up at me, I think I spot excitement. Her face brightens, color rushing to her cheeks. But her eyes quickly shift from cool silver to storm gray, and I swear I hear thunder.

Racine hands Kennedy some paperwork with a “see you tomorrow,” and Kennedy heads in my direction.

She puts one leg in front of the other, holding my stare like she’s stalking prey. She stops directly in front of me with arms crossed.

“Cupid,” I say.

Her face doesn’t flinch, but a satisfying hint of pink flushes her cheeks.

“My office?” she asks, not waiting for me to answer before walking past me.

I follow the overwhelming coconut trail that follows her and shut the door behind us. “Hopefully it’s not too late.”

She rounds her desk but doesn’t sit. “Not at all, I just got back from a meeting.”

“Is that why you’ve been dodging my calls?”

“Not dodging.” Her eyebrows furrow defensively. “It’s been a busy day, that’s all. Is something wrong?”

How a woman can be so captivating and so infuriating at the same time grinds at me. Every conversation is like walking in sand, one step forward, two steps back. She stands with a shovel, adding more between us by the moment.

“Everything’s fine.” I try to sound casual, like her presence alone doesn’t immediately eat at me. “I wanted to check in on Jasmine.”

That gets me a reaction. Her eyebrows cinch as her back straightens.

“Of course,” she says, waving for me to take a seat.

She sinks into her chair, but her back might as well have a pole up it, because she doesn’t relax. Her fingers swipe across her keyboard, tapping hard like little machines punching holes in the keys.

Now I’m sure it’s disappointment in her eyes: a crinkle at the corners of them. She’s squinting just enough to also look irritated. I’m not sure what’s worse: thinking someone has her insides twisted, or considering it might be me affecting her in that way.

“Looks like Racine penciled in another date for you on…” Her eyes narrow and skim the screen. “Tuesday. Seven p.m., The Spicy Sanchez.” She folds her hands over one another on the desk and looks at me with a blank face.

“Tuesday.” I pull out my phone and check the calendar. “That works.”

Looks like Tiffany has already added it to my calendar. My assistant knows my schedule better than I do. But I pretend to type the date into my calendar and keep up the ruse of why I came here.

“Anything else?” Her tone is cool. “I’m about to head out for the evening.”

“What are you doing tonight?” I regret asking as soon as the words come out. I shouldn’t care what she’s doing tonight—or ever.

She gives me a curious look. “Nothing. Heading home, catching up on work. Why?”

“Thought maybe you had a date.”

“No date.” She bites down on her bottom lip, and for the first time since she sat down I get a hint that she’s nervous.

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