Page 96 of Desserts for Stressed People

“No, no.” I grab a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. “But we kissed.”

“That’s all?” She grimaces, then puts the shirt back and gives me another one instead.

“Yeah. It was just too fast for me with...well, with everything that’s happened.” I peer at Alex’s phone charger by the bed and sigh. “But he invited me on a date.”

“Oh my God!” she shrieks. “When? Where? What are you wearing?”

“Maybe let’s talk about it tomorrow, when he can’t eavesdrop?”

“Okay, okay. Tell me one thing,” she says as I take off my pajamas and fit into the gray joggers. “How was it?”

Kissing him? I think back to the taste of his lips, his light stubble pricking my skin. His hands moving up my thigh, his tongue flat against my neck. “Like I wish you weren’t here, so I could do some more of it.”

“If it makes you wish I wasn’t here, then he must be the God of dry humping.”

Playfully hitting her arm, I fit into my t-shirt. “I don’t know. It was...the most incredible kiss—kisses—of my life.”

“Did you see him without his shirt on? Didn’t I tell you?” she asks, and because we can’t stay in this room all day while I describe to her all his muscles—there’s too many—I quickly nod and refuse to give out any more details.

“I can’t believe how lucky you are,” Emma says as she shakes her head.

I’d like to remind her that to get here, I had to find out my long-term boyfriend was cheating on me, then decide to catfish him, get drunk, match with a stranger, be assigned to a random team of crazy people, and find out Shane’s my boss. But I don’t.

She’s right, and I can’t believe I’m this lucky either.

Chapter24

Mr. & Miss Asshole

The city looksgorgeous from this glass wall. Tall buildings stand before me, but behind, hidden by a large mall, peek the canals. The water shines and sparkles with the sun’s rays, like a billion tiny mirrors, and I can’t help the wide grin that curves my lips. Somewhere east of there is Shane’s secret spot.

Turning around, I mumble a curse at the elevator doors. I’m always quite excited to get to work, and that’s been especially true since I started working on the sixth floor a month ago. But today reaches a whole other level. Today, it takes an entire minute more than usual for them to close.

“Hold it!”

I shove my hand between the closing doors, which open up again, and Shane enters the elevator in a rush, the musky scent of his aftershave filling the narrow space.

“Miss Wilson,” he says, his fingers scrambling along the buttons of his jacket.

“Mr. Hassholm. I believe you’re late for your first meeting today.”

He straightens his tie and looks at his watch. “Hmm. You wouldn’t believe the night I had.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“No. I’ve spent hours cleaning up some girl’sverydirty apartment and dodging her friend’sveryinappropriate questions.”

I bite my lower lip, but before I can say anything more, his phone rings. I’m guessing it’ll do that a lot, especially now that the event is getting closer.

“Fuck.” He brings it to his ear. “Marina, I’m on my way. I know, I’m in the damn elevator—yeah, I know. Get them a coffee—I said I know, Marina.” When I hide a smile behind the palm of my hand, he tucks the phone into his pocket. “You’re laughing at my misery now.”

“No.” I stare down at my nails. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He turns to me and advances until I’m pressed between him and the elevator’s wall, the cold surface on my back balanced by the warmth of our bodies in contact.

I’m about to ask if he lost his mind, because someone could join us in here any second and I’m pretty sure there are cameras in the top corner, when he presses a button and the elevator comes to a sudden stop. “Oh my God—what are you doing?”

His fingers reach for a lock of hair that escaped my braid. “I don’t know. I must be inspired by your book. I figured you’d appreciate me stopping the elevator and stealing a kiss.”