Page 7 of No More Billionaires

“You have no idea—you should have heard his first suggestion for what to leave under the pillow.”

We both laughed. “Don’t forget what I said about babysitting. Anytime. You need to get out and take a little time for yourself. Maybe even go on a date,” I said.

Deb rolled her eyes at me. “Says one hermit to the other. I’ll leave my cave when you do.” She picked up her perpetually-ringing desk phone and turned toward her monitor.

I logged on to my own computer, chuckling to myself and completely forgetting I hadn’t seen Larson walk away toward his own desk.

His shivery-smooth voice came from behind me. “Well, okay ladies. I’ll let you two get to work. See you at the team meeting.”

I lifted a hand in a wave behind me, but Larson came around to the front of my desk before leaving. He put a large hand on its surface and leaned down, dropping his voice.

“You really should come hang out with us next time. I know it’s hard to be new. I felt kind of strange when I got here last year, too. But everyone would love to get to know you better.”

He gave me an encouraging smile.

Ugh. Why did he have to keep being so nice? Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

The thing was—everyonewasn’t inviting me out repeatedly—only Larson. Had I not been clear enough over the past few weeks about not wanting to knowhimbetter?

“Okay, thanks. Maybe next time,” I said, my eyes darting away.

When he didn’t move, I risked another glance at his face. Those mesmerizing eyes were narrowed, his lips twisted like he was trying to figure out a particularly difficult-to-pronounce name on a script.

He nodded. “Okay,” he said and started to walk off.

Then he stopped and turned around. “You look pretty today, by the way.” He turned and kept going.

My fingers stopped in place on the keyboard. My gaze stayed locked on his back. Though the newsroom was always ice cold, a heat spread through my body from my chest outward until I was blazing with it.

This had to stop—the invitations, the attempts to draw me into conversation, the compliments.

Especially those.

It wasn’t that I felt sexually harassed or thought Larson was being a lech or something—it’s just that it wasn’t true. I’d made quite sure I didn’t looklovelyorprettybefore I’d left the house this morning, and I didn’t understand why he kept on saying such things, day after day.

Propelled by some kind of inner force, I rose from my chair and followed Larson’s path across the newsroom to his desk. He had an office, but for the most part, he just kept a change of clothes in there and sat with the show team in the large, open newsroom.

He’d already taken a seat but rose from his chair when he saw me coming, a half-smile starting to develop.

“Kenley.”

I waited until I got very close before speaking in a low voice. “I don’t.”

The smile morphed into confusion. “What?”

“I don’t look pretty. And I don’t appreciate your teasing or mocking or whatever it is you’re doing.”

And the confusion became shock. “Oh… I… I’m not sure what you…”

He held his hands up in front of himself as if bracing for defensive wounds. “Listen, I’m sorry if I offended you. I won’t say it anymore if you don’t like it, but I was completely sincere. I definitely wasn’t mocking you. I just find you very… pretty—”

He winced. “Sorry—I said it again. I won’t say it. Anymore. Sorry.”

He stared at me, a bit wide-eyed, as if he expected me to start yelling at him or something. Instead I sighed.

What a bitch I must seem like.

Poor guy. My stuff with Mark and Momma wasn’t his fault. He was just trying to be nice and didn’t knowwhatto say to me.

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