{ CHAP+ER }

22

Stella had filled out half of the necessary forms to open up an internship position in her department—of which she was the sole employee—when her phone buzzed. She dug it out of her desk and smiled at the message from Michael.

What is my Stella doing?

She texted him back. Paperwork.

Can you take a long lunch?

She hugged her phone and spun her desk chair in a circle before replying. Yes.

Never mind the untouched lunch sitting next to her keyboard that she’d had delivered. She could put it in the fridge for tomorrow.

His response had her smile widening.

Head over to my mom’s shop when you can.

She gathered the internship papers into a neat pile and prepared to leave. It was lunchtime on Friday, and everyone had left for the various restaurants downtown. She walked through the hallways and entered the elevator, expecting to make a clean getaway.

Philip stepped between the doors as they started to close.

“Are you actually heading out for lunch today? Care if I join you?” he asked.

“I’m meeting someone.”

“The same guy?”

She nodded.

“Lucky guy.”

She stared at the floor level indicator, wishing it would go from three to one much, much quicker.

“I heard you’re planning on taking an intern.”

“That’s right.”

“My cousin is a good fit.”

Her eyes jumped from the numbers to Philip’s face. “I already have someone in mind.”

He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “All right.”

“Wait . . .” She sighed. “Send me your cousin’s résumé.” As much as she wanted to hire Janie, she had to be fair about this. There was such a thing as professional integrity. The spot needed to go to the most qualified candidate.

Michael would understand. He didn’t let his sister win when wrestling just because she was younger and smaller and weaker. Stella had to go through the proper vetting process. She had a feeling, however, Janie was her girl. When you loved something—like she and Janie did—you were good at it. If you weren’t good right away, you got good at it.

Philip released an amused huff of breath. “All right, then.”

The elevator dinged, and she strode through the lobby. Frustratingly, Philip followed her to her car.

“Are you going to that charity benefit tomorrow?” he asked.

“How do you know about it?”

“My mom and yours are on the planning committee. I know, small world, right? Anyway, I was wondering if you have a date. My mom is going to find me one if I don’t get one on my own.” He smiled and hunched his shoulders in a way that made him seem far more approachable than normal.

Their situations were so similar, Stella couldn’t help sympathizing. “Mine threatened the same thing.”

“Look, Stella, I know you’re seeing someone, but . . . Before, you said you hoped it was serious, kind of like you weren’t sure. Is he your boyfriend or not?”

She looked down at the blacktop in the parking lot. “It’s complicated.”

“What does that mean?”

“I need to go. I don’t want to be late.” She gripped the door handle to her car.

He lowered a hand toward hers but stopped before making contact. Did he sense she needed her space? Maybe he really did understand her.

“Does it mean you’re just having sex? Because you’re better than that. I hope you know that. All that stuff I told you before about needing practice—it was crap. You intimidate the hell out of me, and I was trying to make myself seem more worldly. It’s stupid. All that matters is connecting with the right person. I think you can be that person for me, Stella. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“Why are you telling me this now? We’ve worked together for years.” She could hardly believe her ears. He’d liked her all this time? Her?

“Because I have issues, and my tongue ties up when I’m with you and all that comes out is asshole garbage. I was waiting for you to ask me out because I’m insecure, but I’m asking you now. The idea that you’re seeing some guy who doesn’t appreciate you makes me crazy. You’re a ten for me, Stella.”

He thought she was a ten? Someone thought she was a ten. Her chest caved in, and her eyes stung. “I’m not a ten. I have . . . issues, too.”

“I know. Your mom told my mom. She told me. I have a whole slew of problems that change names every time I switch therapists. We’re perfect for each other. You’re still a ten for me.”

But he wasn’t her perfect ten. He might have been, though, if things had been different. There was a time when she would have been interested in exploring whether there was a nice guy inside him somewhere. She couldn’t fault him for sounding condescending when she often came across the same way. Besides, she wanted him to be good underneath it all. The idea gave her hope for herself.

“I’m sorry, Philip. I already asked him to go to the benefit with me. I can’t uninvite him. More than that, I don’t want to. I’m obsessed with him.”

A stubborn look crossed Philip’s face. “Obsessions pass.”

“Not for me, they don’t.”

“I assure you he’s just a phase. You’re not in love,” he said with certainty.

Her lips parted. Love? Was that what this feeling was?

Was she in love with Michael?

“How can you be so sure it’s not love?” she asked.

“I know because I’m the one you’re going to fall in love with. Me,” he insisted.

“Philip, don’t do this, whatever this is.”

“You need to give us a try.”

With that, he stepped forward and bent toward her.

She tried to back away, but her car was right behind her, preventing escape. She turned her face to the side. He didn’t wear overpowering cologne, but his smell was wrong. She pushed her hands against his chest. The feel of him was wrong. He wasn’t Michael.

He touched his lips to hers. Dry skin on dry skin. A wet tongue slimed into her mouth, and her heart skittered. Her body went into lockdown. It was like her first three encounters all over again.

Wrong wrong wrong.

She twisted away and dragged her sleeve over her mouth. Dirty, black feelings grated over her skin, inside and out.

Philip grimaced and set his jaw, fisted his hands. “You just have to get used to me, Stella. You acclimated to that bastard.”

She shoved at his chest, pushing him away. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Heart pounding and hands shaking, she got in her car. By the time she reached the shop, she’d mostly calmed down, but that unclean feeling persisted. She wanted to brush her teeth.

Inside, she located Michael kneeling in the fitting area at an older gentleman’s feet, pinning the hem of his pants. Michael wore jeans and a black T-shirt. Measuring tape, pincushion, and chalk pencil were in place. She loved him in work clothes. He must have dressed similarly when he designed in New York City, sketching patterns over lighted architect tables and draping cloth over ungrateful mannequins.

As if sensing her, he glanced up, caught sight of her, and smiled.

She started to return his smile, but the bad taste in her mouth reminded her of what had happened in the parking lot. What if Michael kissed her now? She’d get Philip all over him. Disgusting. “Bathroom. I need the bathroom.”