“What are you wearing tonight?” he asked, looking down his perfect nose at her as she sat in the chair behind her desk.
“Huh?” She scooted her chair a little farther away.
He laughed. “The Christmas party, remember? What are you wearing?”
“Oh. Don’t know.”
Being Ian’s executive assistant often reduced her to phrases. Pure self-preservation. Half the time she couldn’t get a full sentence out without being interrupted.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? I’m not missing the chance to see that ass in something besides baggy dress pants.”
Without a word, she pointed to the half-filled jar on the corner of her desk. The label clearly read SEXUAL HARRASSMENT FUND in big, bold letters. Ironic considering sexual harassment was what had landed her in his office. When Corinne had moved, Alex and Cailin had decided she would step in as Alex’s secretary and Cailin would move to R&D. It helped give them both the space they’d needed to stay distant at work while Alex and Sara Beth got both the company and their marriage settled. The transition had been accomplished smoothly, and overall the employees and investors—those who’d been allowed to stay, that is—seemed pleased with the changes. With a few bumps and bruises, Alex’s plan had worked out great.
As had the jar. Every time a suggestive remark left Ian’s mouth, she made the big flirt put a dollar in the clear plastic container. So far she hadn’t bought the first lunch since they started the routine.
Fishing out his wallet with a loud sigh, he pulled it open. “All I’ve got is a ten.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Of course you will.” Muttering the whole time, he folded the ten-dollar bill and slid it through the slot cut in the jar’s lid. “Now, the party?”
She shook her head. “Don’t know.”
Ian rolled his eyes to the ceiling and began to curse in what she assumed was Norwegian. His parents, he’d told her, were first-generation immigrants. They’d made sure their brilliant boy could speak both their native language and the language of their new home. Ian tended to only use the curse words.
While his eyes were otherwise occupied, Cailin allowed a smile to sneak onto her lips. One thing was certain: Ian made the days interesting, and he kept her from dwelling on the heartache she’d seen over the past few months. Alex’s goal had been to track down every woman in Corinne’s file, and he’d done that. Helping Sara Beth work with them on everything from simple apologies or compensation to getting their lives back on track had filled both their nights and weekends, but it was worth every minute. If hearing the women’s stories sometimes kept her up at night, at least now she had Alex to hold her close and keep her warm. Sane. Happy.
Among other things. Which was why tonight was making her so nervous.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve surpassed that ten you paid me a minute ago. Might want to switch to English and hush,” she finally told him, trying desperately to hold back her laugh. She never laughed until he left the room. It only encouraged him, and he didn’t need the encouragement; he needed a muzzle.
Ian laughed instead. That laugh always brought out a smile. She couldn’t help it. The man just enjoyed life. When he reached for her hand, she set it easily in his. “You, my dear,” he said, tugging her up from her chair, “absolutely have to look phenomenal tonight, no ifs, ands, or buts.”
She jigged to the side. “Keep your hand away from my butt.”
Ian leaned over her shoulder to eye said body part with a leering grin, but when his gaze returned to hers, he got serious quick. “Why the nerves?”
The man read women much too easily, that was for sure. With an exaggerated sigh, she gave in. “Alex is meeting me there tonight.”
“And…?”
“And…” she mocked, “we’re ‘going’ to the party together. As a couple.” Openly. For the first time. Not that she needed to spell any of that out for him. Ian was one of only a few who knew the whole story by now, mostly because he’d figured out even before they had that she couldn’t keep her eyes off Alex, and vice versa. She often thought it was one of the reasons he was so free with her, since there was very little doubt that she was taken with a capital T.
“Ah,” he said. “No wonder you’re nervous.”
“Mmm,” she murmured noncommittally. The sway of their still-joined hands reminded her of a game she used to play with her pigtailed girlfriends in elementary school. “People will talk.”
He bent closer until their faces were on level with each other. “People always talk, Cailin. That’s the way people are.”