Rosie: So … you could always go to his office and glare at him in that way I’m sure he loves.

Whoa. What the heck?

I moved uncomfortably in my chair as I stared at my phone screen in horror.

Lina: WTF are you talking about? Did you eat too much chocolate again? You know it makes you trippy. *shocked emoji*

Rosie: Deflect all you want.

Lina: Not deflecting, just genuinely concerned about your health right now.

Rosie: *eye roll emoji*

This was new. My friend had never directly addressed whatever nonsense she thought she saw. She still dropped a comment here and there every once in a while.

“Simmering tension,” she had said one time.

To which I had snorted so hard that a little bit of water came out my nose.

That was how ridiculous I thought her observations were.

In my humble opinion, all those soapy shows she watched were starting to mess up her perception of reality. Hell, and I was the Spanish one out of the two. I had grown up watching soap operas with my abuela. But I surely wasn’t living in one. There wasn’t simmering tension between Aaron Blackford and me. I did not glare at him in a way he loved. Aaron didn’t love anything—he couldn’t do that without a heart.

Lina: All right, I have work to do, so I’ll let you get back to your coffee, but stop raiding the pastry counter. I’m concerned.

Rosie: Okay, okay. I’ll stop—for now. *heart emoji* Good luck!

Lina: *heart emoji* *fire emoji*

Locking my phone and placing it facedown on the table, I took a deep, energizing breath.

Time to get this show going.

The image of the chocolate brownie popped in my head. Assaulting me.

No, Lina.

Thinking of brownies—or any food—wasn’t going to help. I needed to make myself believe that I wasn’t hungry.

“I’m not hungry,” I said out loud, putting my chestnut hair in a bun. “My stomach is full. Packed with all kinds of delicious food. Like tacos. Or pizza. Or brownies. Coffee and—”

My stomach grumbled, ignoring my visualization exercise and invading my mind with memories of Around the Corner. The delicious scent of roasted coffee beans. The welcome sensory attack that involved taking a bite of a brownie that included three sorts of chocolate. The sound of the coffee machine steaming milk.

Another complaint rose from my noisy stomach.

Sighing, I reluctantly kicked out all those images off my mind and rolled up the sleeves of the thin cardigan I had to wear in the building, thanks to the AC being tuned up to the max in summer.

“Okay, stomach, work with me here,” I muttered to myself, as if the words would maybe make some kind of difference. “I’ll take us to Around the Corner tomorrow. Now, you need to stay quiet and let me work. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The word echoed in my office, as if it had been my stomach answering.

But I wasn’t that lucky.

“That was odd.” The same deep voice came again. “But I guess it goes with your personality.”

Not needing to lift my head to know who was behind that rich tone, I closed my eyes.

Damn you, Rosalyn Graham. You summoned this evil entity into my office, and you’ll pay for this in chocolate.

Cursing under my breath—because, of course, it had to be him hearing me rally myself—I schooled my face into a neutral expression and looked up from my desk. “Odd? I like to think of it as endearing.”

“No,” he answered quickly. Way too quickly. “It’s a little disturbing when you say more than a couple of words. And you were having a full conversation with yourself.”

I grabbed the first thing I found lying around in my desk—a highlighter. I breathed in and then out. “I’m sorry, Blackford. But I don’t have time to pick apart my quirks right now,” I said, holding my highlighter in the air. “Do you need anything?”

I took him in as he stood under the threshold of my office door, his laptop under one of his arms, one of his dark eyebrows raised.

“What’s Around the Corner?” he queried, starting in my direction.

Exhaling slowly, I ignored his question and watched his long legs closing the distance to my desk. Then, I had to watch him walk around it and stop somewhere to my left.

I swiveled my office chair, fully facing him. “Sorry, but is there anything I can help you with?”

His gaze fell behind me, on my laptop screen, his big body bending down.

My eyes shot to his face, probably looking at him in one of the ways Rosie had pointed out earlier—glaring—only without whatever crap she’d read between lines that didn’t even exist. His brows drew in.

Aaron placed his left hand on my desk and bent further down.

“Excuse me?” I told to his round and kind of huge shoulder.

Jesus, what is he, a giant?

Realizing how very close his body was to my face and how much larger it seemed up close, I leaned back in my chair. “Hello?” The word came out wobblier than I would have preferred. “What are you doing?”

He hummed, the soft noise sounding as close as he was. Right in my face.

“Blackford,” I said very slowly, watching how his eyes scanned the PowerPoint slide on my screen. It displayed a draft of the schedule I was assembling for InTech’s Open Day.

I knew what he was doing. But I didn’t know why. Or why he was ignoring me—besides because he was trying to be the biggest pain in my ass.

“Blackford, I’m talking to you.”

Lost in thought, he hummed again, that damn noise sounding all hushed and masculine.

And annoying, I reminded myself.

I swallowed the lump that had just magically appeared in my throat.

Then, he finally spoke, “Is that all you’ve got?”

He absently placed his laptop on my desk. Right beside mine. My eyes narrowed.

“Eight a.m. Meet and greet.” One bulky arm flew in front of my face, pointing at my screen.

I plastered my body to the backrest of my chair, watching his biceps flex under the fabric of the plain button-down he wore.

Aaron continued reading out loud from my screen, pointing with his finger at every item, “Nine a.m. An introduction to InTech’s business strategies.”

My eyes traveled all the way up to his shoulder.

“Ten a.m. Coffee break … until eleven a.m. That will require large amounts of coffee. Eleven a.m. Pre-lunch activities. Not specified.”

I surprised myself, noticing how his arm filled out the sleeve perfectly and completely, his muscles snuggled into the thin fabric and not leaving much space for imagination.

“Noon. Lunch break … until two p.m. Quite the banquet. Oh, and there’s another coffee break at three p.m.” That arm I had been focused on halted in the air and then dropped.

Flushed, I reminded myself that I wasn’t here to gawk at him. Or the muscles I noticed beneath his boring clothes.

“This is worse than I thought. Why didn’t you say anything?”

I snapped out my trance, looking up at him. “Excuse me, what?”

Aaron tilted his head, and then something seemed to catch his attention. My gaze followed his hand across my desk.

“An event like this one,” he said. Then, he picked up one of the pens I had scattered around. “You have never planned one. And you don’t seem to know how.” He dropped it in my cactus-shaped pencil cup.

“I have some experience with workshops,” I muttered as I followed his fingers repeating the action with a second pen. “But just for colleagues, never for prospective clients.” Then a third one. “Excuse me, what do you think you are doing?”

“Okay,” he answered simply, grabbing my favorite pencil, one that was pink, topped with a feather in the same bright color. He looked at it strangely, his brows arching up. “It’s not ideal, but it’s a start.” He pointed at me with the pencil. “This? Seriously?”