Page 13 of Discretion

Shit.Had he asked a question while I wasn’t paying attention? And if so, what was it?

Nate leaned in and murmured, “Keyless entry.”

Right. The new technology.

I was going to have to figure something out because this couldn’t happen again. I couldn’t allow myself to be so distracted by Halle that everything else became background noise.

I responded to Leith’s question and didn’t look at Halle again for the rest of the meeting unless she was speaking. Because when she did speak, it was impossible to look away. She was confident and persuasive, and the rest of the board seemed equally captivated.

When the meeting wrapped up, I closed my laptop and stood.

“Ready?” Nate asked, watching me in a way that was unnerving.

My siblings and I always tried to have lunch together after our board meetings. Since our schedules were so hectic, it was an easy time to schedule something. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Halle typing on her laptop.

“Give me a sec to finish up a few things, and then I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds good.” Nate patted me on the back.

Everyone else filed out, leaving me alone with Halle. When she looked up from her laptop, I glanced away, trying to hide the fact that I’d been staring, studying her as I searched for a clue to her thoughts.

She tilted her head. Why did she have to be so goddamn beguiling? “Is this going to be a problem?”

“What?”

She gave me a meaningful look as if to say, “Oh, come on.”

“Us working together?” I asked, wanting to make sure there was no miscommunication.

She nodded, her eyes tracking someone as they walked past the glass windows of the conference room. Everything about her was so buttoned-up; there was no way anyone watching would guess at the true topic of our conversation.

I supposed I should be thankful.

I wasn’t.

I tucked my hands into my pockets, debating my response while telling my body to ignore its reaction to her. “Why? Is it a problem for you?”

I really hoped it wasn’t, but I didn’t know where we stood after all this time. Did she hate me for what we’d done? Regret it? Wish for a repeat like I did?

I doubted it.

It had been nearly eight months since our fling, and we hadn’t spoken since. At least not about anything meaningful, not about anything other than work.

Before I’d left London, I’d tried to talk to her about our future, but she’d shut me down. I’d tried to tell myself it was because she wasn’t interested in a long-distance relationship. But now, I wasn’t sure if distance had been our biggest obstacle.

“I don’t want it to be.” Her words were heavy with meaning, her eyes practically begging me not to create an issue.

“Then it won’t.” I forced out the words. “We’re both professionals, right?”

She closed her laptop and stood. “Right.” I wasn’t sure if the skepticism I heard in her voice was imagined or real.

“So we’ll just…” I stepped closer, drawn to her as if tugged by some invisible force. “Keep it professional.”

“Exactly,” she said in a chipper voice. “Professional.”

“But friendly,” I added. After all, we’d been friends and colleagues before we’d become lovers.

“Professional,” she said again, this time more firmly.