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I wouldn’t call Kit spoiled—not unless I was really pissed at him at least—but he’s certainlyentitled.
His eyes narrow when I say nothing. “That wasn’t a request, Collins. Cancel them, or I’ll come along as a third wheel.”
I almost laugh. Does he think I have adatetonight? I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended by that assumption. I haven’t had the energy to talk to a man who isn’t him since I found out I was pregnant, let alone line up a date. Perry has texted twice about rescheduling drinks, and I made up an excuse both times.
I wonder if Kit would drop this if he knew my plans were shopping with Margot and Stella, then decide it’s not worth it. If he’s going to insist on having this conversation, I’d rather get it over with sooner rather than later.
“Fine,” I state. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at five.”
There’s still a chance someone could see us leaving together, but Kensington Consolidated isn’t the only company with offices in this building. There’s less of a chance.
It’s 1:01 now.
I shouldn’t like that Kit is prioritizing me over an important client, but I kind of do. I’ve never witnessed himfightfor anything before. Yet he’s fighting to talk to me, and I’m less immune to that than I want to be.
“Okay. I’ll see you then. I mean, I’ll see you before, but also—” Kit stops talking, shakes his head once, and then rounds the side of my desk. It’s the closest to flustered I’ve ever seen him. “I hope that’s decaf,” he adds before continuing down the hallway toward the conference rooms.
I stare after him, stunned.
One, that he has the audacity to imply I’m endangering our—my—baby by consuming coffee.
Two, because in order for Kit to know that pregnant women aresupposed to limit their caffeine intake, I’m pretty sure he would have had to do some research.
Which makes me feel a little guilty for dumping the mug of tea that was left on my desk before heading into his office this morning.
21
Collins is waiting, arms tightly crossed, when I step out of the elevator.
I don’t bother hiding my smile as I approach, even knowing my cheerful expression will only irritate her more.
Because I’m happy to see her.
Collins frowns when I stop a foot in front of her. “You’re late.”
It’s 5:03, not 5:30. But I’ll pick my battles tonight, and technically, she’s right.
“I’m sorry,” I say sincerely.
I catch the flash of surprise. She wasn’t expecting me to apologize.
“Let’s go,” I add, and she nods.
We both know loitering in the lobby together is a dumb idea.
Collins is even more eager to leave than I am. She slips on the marble floor in her haste to spin toward the exit, so I grab her arm to steady her.
The heat of her skin singes mine like an open flame, the silky fabric of her blue blouse so sheer that it’s barely a barrier at all.
She tugs free from my hold as quickly as possible, her, “Thank you,” clipped.
My, “You’re welcome,” is equally formal.
Camden is waiting along the curb. I texted him while walking to the elevator upstairs.
“Mr. Kensington,” he greets, opening the car door with a polite nod.
I catch Collins’s pursed lips out of the corner of my eye.