Especially if I want any chance with him after this.
I shove that ridiculous thought out of my mind.
Now to find his office. I’m assuming that’s where he keeps his computer.
His office turns out to be behind the third door on the left, and I let out a sigh of relief when I find it. At least it’s not all the way across the penthouse. I have no idea how huge this place is, but there’s only so far the bathroom excuse will take me if he wakes up and finds that I’m not in bed.
There’s ambient city light coming in through the window of the office, so I don’t reach for a switch.
My heart sinks.
There’s no computer.
Then I have to laugh, because of course there’s no desktop computer. Jett Brandon probably takes his essential tech everywhere he goes.
It’s an Apple laptop, the case shiny and smooth, and it’s right in the center of his desk.
I hurry over and open it. The screen illuminates immediately. He hasn’t powered it off. Thank Christ. I don’t know how to stop the chime from sounding when the computer starts up, so it’s a damn good thing this can be soundless and I’m several rooms down the hall from the bedroom.
For good measure, I hit the key on the keyboard that mutes the volume, then I slide the thumb drive into one of the USB ports.
Charlie said this wouldn’t require me to log in, and he was right. Within seconds, a status bar appears in the lower left hand corner of the screen.
10%.
20%.
50%.
70%.
The whirring of the computer’s internal fan seems ridiculously loud, and I strain to hear over it. Were those footsteps in the hall?
80%.
90%.
As soon as the indicator reaches 100% and notifies me that installation was successful, I snatch the thumb drive and shut the cover of the computer. As long as he doesn’t decide to work within the next ten minutes, he’ll never be the wiser.
I move silently back down the hall, dropping the thumb drive into my purse before pausing at the door.
Jett hasn’t moved.
The sweet warmth of relief floods my body.
Followed by a guilty lump in my throat, so sharp it takes my breath away.
Because I want more of him, too.
Chapter Ten
Jett
Friday at the office is an exercise in torture.
Angelica left early in the morning. We didn’t speak much as she gathered her things, but outside the elevator she stopped, grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and pulled me down for a kiss. It might have turned into another round in bed if she hadn’t stepped back at the last moment, putting her fingers to her lips.
“That was something else, Jett Brandon,” she said with a wicked little smile, and then climbed into the elevator without a backward glance.
I spent the next hour at the gym across the street, lifting weights and sprinting on the treadmill until my muscles burned. I tried to convince myself that I was relieved there would be no drama, not with Angelica. We hadn’t discussed next steps, and she hadn’t dropped any hints about seeing me again.
I know several women who would have dismissed the “one night” stipulation out of hand, kept pushing, pressing for more time together. Not Angelica. She seems to have a perfect understanding that a one night stand was the only offer on the table. In fact, she seemed to delight in it.
A woman after my own damn heart.
I’d hoped throwing myself into a workout would sharpen my mind for the office, but things start to come apart at the seams almost as soon as I walk in the door. It takes every ounce of my self-control to pay attention to what other people are saying in meetings. Connor has more updates on the merger, but he can tell I’m fighting to stay interested.
This is exactly the kind of distraction I need to avoid.
“Late night?” Connor says, leaning toward me a little, a conspiratorial grin on his face.
I try to keep these conversations out of the office—for obvious reasons—but I’m still coming down from the incredible high of being with Angelica.
“To say the least.”
“Who is she?”
I shoot Connor a look. “She’s nobody, Connor. It was a one-night stand.”
He leans back in his chair, linking his fingers behind his head. “You don’t look like it was a one night stand.”
“Fine,” I say with faux irritation. “I’m thinking about seeing her again. What’s it to you?”
He shrugs, then shakes his head. “Just wondering when you’d rebound from Emerald. That’s all.”
My hand clenches involuntarily into a fist at the mention of her name. “She’s a nobody.”
Connor takes the hint and stands up. “It looks like the merger can go ahead as planned.”
“Glad to hear it.” My friend and CFO lingers at the door. Back before Emerald, I’d spend most weekends with him and other friends—and women—at the Purple Swan. Connor is paid handsomely, as are all of my high-level employees, but a membership at the Swan would still be beyond his means.