Page 44 of Forty, Flirty & Framed

"Heroic."

"Stupid," she confesses with a self-deprecating smile."But very on-brand for me.Always trying to save things that are already falling."

Something about the comment hits deeper than she probably intended.

I move to point at the screen, reaching for the mouse at the exact moment she does.

Our hands collide, hers warm beneath mine.

Neither of us pulls away.

"Sorry," I murmur, not moving.

"My fault," she replies, but doesn't withdraw her hand.

The air between us shifts—charged suddenly with something beyond professional collaboration.

"Karina—" I begin, not entirely sure what I'm about to say.

"We should focus on the work," she interrupts, but her eyes drop briefly to my mouth.

"Absolutely."I remove my hand from the mouse—and hers."The campaign pivot is our priority."

"Right."

"Though I'm not wearing a kilt for any PR photos."

She laughs, the tension breaking slightly."Not even for the greater good?"

"Not even to save the entire company."

"Coward."

"Pragmatist."

"Says the man who owns at least three kilts, according to your grandmother's photo album."

"For traditional events.Not corporate photo ops."

"But they would sell so well on merchandise," she teases."Think of the bobbleheads."

"I'd rather not."

"Kilt-wearing action figures?"

"Stop."

“Plaid-themed energy drinks?"

I reach out to grab the laptop, but she pulls it away, laughing.

I lunge forward, she yanks it backward, and suddenly we're engaged in a ridiculous tug-of-war over a $3,000 computer.

"This is very unprofessional," I growl.

“Quite a statement from the man attacking his Marketing Director," she retorts, still gripping the laptop.

Our ridiculous tug-of-war sends the laptop sliding across the table with a thud, but I hardly notice.