Out of Hours...Office Affairs: Can't Get Enough / Wild Nights with her Wicked Boss / Bound to the Greek. Кейт Хьюит
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I said anything. I was only joking, anyway,” she hedged.
Katherine shook her head sympathetically.
“That long, huh?”
Desperate for some way to avoid the conversation Claire suspected was in the offing, she scanned the coffee shop looking for a distraction. She twitched as she noted Jack Brook propped at the lunch bar, one leg resting comfortably on the foot rail as he chatted to a woman she didn’t recognize. He looked so confident and happy and self-assured that she felt her toes curling in her shoes with annoyance.
“You went out with Jack Brook for a while, didn’t you?” she found herself blurting.
Katherine looked surprised and she turned to follow Claire’s line of sight, quickly spotting Jack lounging at the bar.
The glance she shot Claire was unreadable.
“Yeah, I did. For a few short, spectacular weeks a couple of years ago.”
The waiter stopped by their table, and Claire and Katherine both ordered the chicken club sandwich. Silence fell. Aware that Katherine was now thinking completely the wrong thing, Claire felt honor-bound to correct her.
“He parked in my space this morning,” she explained. “He’s such an arrogant jerk, I just wondered what you saw in him.”
“That’s simple—pretty much what every other woman sees in him. He’s gorgeous.”
Claire pulled a face, her eyes sliding across to contemplate Jack’s profile.
“He really does nothing for me,” she said airily.
Katherine made a small disbelieving noise.
“Then you’re officially the walking dead. Whether or not Jack Brook is gorgeous is not a matter of subjective opinion. He has those amazing eyes, and a body to die for—fantastic skin, great arms. And he’s a great lover. Really…gifted, if you get what I mean,” Katherine said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Claire shifted in her seat, but she was unable to stop her gaze from sneaking over to him. He was teasing his lunch companion, reaching out to swipe a bit of frosting off her cake. As Claire watched he slid his chocolate-coated finger into his mouth and licked it, his actions completely unconscious and completely erotic. She flicked her eyes away from the blatant display, but, again, they slid back to him of their own accord. Now he was shoving his hand into his pants pocket as he leaned casually on the bar. The fabric tightened across his thighs and, unbelievably, she felt herself blushing as she considered what Katherine had said. Gifted… What exactly did that mean? Was that about the finger-licking thing, or the part of his trousers that was holding her attention right now?
“You know, a fling with someone like Jack could be exactly what you need,” Katherine said.
Claire jerked her attention back to her friend.
“Are you insane? I wouldn’t sleep with Jack Brook if you paid me. He’s cocky, conceited, smug—and a complete man-slut.”
“I see.”
Katherine was smiling knowingly, and Claire bristled. Determined to prove her point, she leaned across the table.
“If you gave me the choice of kissing Jack Brook or punching him in the face, I’d choose the punch every time,” she said firmly.
“Ah. So you have thought about kissing Jack, then?”
Claire was about to launch into all the reasons why she considered Jack Brook to be subhuman when Katherine’s face suddenly lit up as though she’d just thought of something funny. She laughed, nodding her head as though she’d just worked something out. Claire frowned at her, suspicious.
“What?”
“I just remembered something. I was talking about you with Jack once. He wanted to know why we were friends—he thought you were prissy.”
Claire sat bolt upright in her seat and glared across at Jack. What a pig! How dare he call her prissy? What a horrible thing to say—as if she was some dried-up spinster aunt or something. She had the urge to go over and give him a piece of her mind….
“Where does he get off talking about me like that?” she snapped, dragging her gaze away from Jack to find Katherine studying her speculatively.
Claire suddenly felt very exposed under her friend’s knowing gaze.
“I mean, as if I care what a jerk like him thinks about me.” Katherine simply quirked an eyebrow disbelievingly.
“Can we please talk about something—anything—else?” Claire asked, fiddling with her paper napkin and cutlery.
To her everlasting relief, their sandwiches arrived.
“You’re lucky I’m really hungry,” Katherine said lightly. “You’re off the hook—for the moment.”
TWENTY MINUTES had turned into half an hour by the time they settled their bill and made their way back to the elevator. Claire thought Katherine had let the subject of Jack Brook drop entirely, but just as they were parting ways, Katherine suddenly got serious. Despite Claire’s protestations, Katherine insisted on explaining why she and Jack had broken up. Claire listened with arms crossed, determined not to give Katherine any more reasons to jump to ridiculous conclusions about her and Jack Brook. Given that every word her friend said just confirmed her preconceived beliefs about the man, it wasn’t hard.
“I just want you to go in with your eyes open,” Katherine finally concluded.
“Kat, hell will freeze over before I even consider having a polite conversation with that man,” Claire said.
“If you say so.”
Claire was shaking her head as she returned to her office, bewildered by Katherine’s determination to imagine some sort of…thing between her and Jack Brook.
“Not in a million years,” she muttered to herself as she began packing her briefcase for her afternoon appointment at Hillcrest Hardware.
“Claire! Oh, my God—I’m so glad I’ve found you!”
It was Tom, sweaty and excited in her doorway.
“I was checking your e-mails while you were at lunch—Morgan Beck wants to see you at two! I went straight down to the coffee shop, but you’d already left…”
Galvanized, Claire checked her watch, then sighed with relief when she saw it was only ten to two. Plenty of time to get up to the thirtieth floor—if she hustled.
She forced herself to suppress the many panicky thoughts that were suddenly clamoring for attention and equal-opportunity worry time in her mind and instead focused on her schedule for the rest of the afternoon. She’d have to push back that appointment with Hillcrest, then…It was no use—all she wanted to do was fret over this unprecedented call from the thirtieth floor. Why would Morgan Beck want to see her out of the blue like this? Surely Welcome Home had been well and truly signed, sealed and delivered? They’d praised her, promoted her to editor, handed the whole project over into her capable hands. What more was there to say?
“Tom, I need you to ring Hillcrest Hardware and tell them I’ll be approximately twenty minutes late,” she said, slinging her handbag over her shoulder and grabbing her briefcase. “I’ll head straight out after seeing Mr. Beck.”
Tom was taking notes, loving the excitement of the moment.
“I’ll ring the traffic report and leave a message on your cell phone if there are any traffic delays,” he suggested eagerly.
“That would be great, thanks,” she said, hiding a smile at his action-stations demeanor.
Satisfied that she’d covered all bases, she headed for the ladies’ room, her mind working overtime trying to find the reason behind this summons. The mirror revealed that hectic color stained her cheeks and the first