Page 70 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire

“That’s the fresh air.”

“You’re blushing.”

“The heat’s on too high.” It’s definitely not—partially because it conks out if you set it over seventy-one degrees. But, God, it does feel sweaty in here.

“Tell me.” She slaps her hands together in a series of short, sharp claps. “Tell me. Tell me.”

I let out a big sigh. “It was just a kiss.”

“Ah!” Now her hands are on her cheeks.

“Maybe twice.”

Paige twirls her arms over her head. “Once is an accident. Twice is a deliberate choice.” She falls silent for a second while dancing a seated jig. “Just first base, then?”

Oh Jesus. “Second.”

“Well, praise be to the nipple-tweaking gods.” She throws her head back to send her thanks to the heavens.

“Seriously, don’t get too excited,” I say. “It’s probably nothing. I barely know anything about this man. I’d like to, but he seems like the type who might be scared off by questions.”

“Tightly wrapped?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm, how fascinatingly mysterious.” She drums her fingertips against her chin.

“Look, none of this is why I called you.” And I certainly don’t want to have to rationalize my completely irrational behavior. “Can we get back to the point?”

“If lover boy is the reason you don’t want to come back for the meeting, thisisthe point.”

“It’s not about whether Iwantto come back. Ihavetocome back, or I’ll probably look like I’m not committed enough and my promotion chances will be fucked. And please don’t call himlover boy.” I shudder with mortification. “It’s just that it’s hard right now.”

“I bet it is.” She waggles her eyebrows.

I shake my head and blow out a sigh. “I mean because I’m in the middle of planning this big Thanksgiving drive. If I can get the funds and a bunch of volunteers in place to help Grandpa keep everything going, when I come back to Chicago for good I can do it with a clean conscience.”

“Well, a slightly dirty one.”

I roll my eyes at her grin. “You’re supposed to be my practical number-crunching friend.”

“I’m also the please-for-the-love-of-all-donkeys-get-Frankie-laid friend.”

She’s also the friend who consistently tries to get me to look at the other side of every coin, no matter how much I don’t want to see it. But there’s no time for that right now.

“I need to be in two places at once. Or else for there to be two of me. One here to look after everything, and another over there to keep my career prospects alive so Dickish Darren doesn’t become my fucking boss.”

“Well he’s clearly trying too hard already,” Paige says. “It took me five minutes to find my lunch yesterday because he’dorganizedthe fridge toimprove storage efficiency.”

“Oh, Jesus. I couldn’t live with himtelling me what to do. I just couldn’t.” I sit down at the kitchen table. “So you think I should do what Julia asked and come back to do this meeting in person?” It was Julia, Crimson Finch’s chief marketing officer, who called me earlier.

“Will she be on the interview panel?”

“Of course.”

Paige grimaces and gives me a you-know-what-you-have-to-do shrug.

“Fuck,” I reply.