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“You say that as though changing jobs is a bad thing,” he says lightly. “Are you trying to tell me this is the only place you’ve ever worked?”
“Of course not,” I say. “But I signed a contract and the tax forms with the intention of staying put.”
He shrugs. “I sign forms like that, too. My contracts just specify the end date up front, is all. Cleaner that way. Everybody knows exactly what to expect.”
The way he phrases it makes me sit up straighter.
“You’d rather know when it’ll end before you start.”
Finn looks up.
“When it comes to my work, yes,” he says, watching me.
I have a feeling that suits him on a level that goes deeper than just how he pays his bills. I bite my lip and turn my attention back to my monitor, tapping at keys like I have some urgent task to complete.
It’s a conversation neither of us is prepared to have, I think—whether or not we’re ready for a commitment. He’s pretty obviously not interested in it. As for me, well… I’ve been committed before. It didn’t turn out well, but I don’t really know how to be any other way. Leaving Finn’s the other night after we slept together was as unfamiliar territory to me as facing my boss the morning after.
Nic. He’d given no indication whatsoever that he’d heard anything that night. Nic, who, despite the eyeful he must have gotten finding Finn and me making out right outside his front door, had been nothing but professional and nice to me all week.
It had taken the better part of three days for me to relax around him, helped immensely by his being more or less locked in his office the whole time. I couldn’t say what he was working on right now, but he kept at it, his door staying closed far more this week than it had in the year since I started working here.
Finn opens his mouth to say something, but the phone rings and the rest of the day passes before we’re able to finish the conversation. I get to leave early today, something Nic makes a point of when we’ve had a slow week. Finn stays to help him lock up, which means I have a chance to get out of my work clothes before meeting him for dinner.
Tonight’s dress is one of my favorites from my shopping spree splurge: close-fitting but for a couple of strategic drapes that hint at curves and cleavage for days. I feel like a pinup bombshell, and I look better than I ever have. Give me a dress like this, and I can bring any man to his knees. The lingerie beneath is classic black lace and makes me feel like an absolute goddess. I stick to stockings since Finn liked those so much last time we were together.
The thought of seeing him again like that is thrilling; the idea of being alone, when we don’t have to behave ourselves in public or at work, makes me shiver. The anticipation is delicious.
I snap a picture in the full-length mirror in my bedroom and send it to Moira.
Moira: GIRL. Call me when you get to the hospital ’cause that dress is bound to give him a heart attack.
The cheesy pickup line, repurposed for best-friend duty, makes me laugh. A quick touch-up for hair and makeup and I’m already headed downstairs when Finn calls to tell me he’s waiting at the curb.
He’s leaning against the door of his truck, scanning the sidewalk when I come out, and he does a double take. A real-life, honest-to-God double take. I can’t help but laugh.
“Were you expecting someone else?” I say, still giggling. His mouth closes and he approaches.
“You look incredible,” he says, taking my hand and pressing it to his chest. “Natalie. You’re incredible.”
I can’t deny that the look on his face is deeply gratifying, but I can still hear nerves in my voice. “Wait until you see the rest of it.”
Heat flashes across his face. Finn clenches his jaw. “Keep this up, and we’re going to miss dinner.”
“You won’t get any complaints from me.”
His hand squeezes mine tightly for a second, then he shakes his head. “No, ma’am. Dinner first.”
I know he’s probably not looking for anything long-term. Look at his life, his jobs. Even his apartment is new. The man has “I’m here for a good time, not a long time” written all over him. I’m already addicted to the way he looks at me, and I know in my bones that when he leaves, I’ll get my heart broken. God knows what it’ll do to my self-esteem. Jeff wasn’t half so attentive, and that breakup threw me for a year. When Finn decides to go, it’ll wreck me.
But Lord alive, I think the ride might be worth it. He looks at me like he wants to tear my clothes off where we stand.
The restaurant is beautiful, all antique dark wood and mirrored glass, low lighting and tasteful music. The food is excellent. Hands down, best date of my life. I’m afraid to even think the words, in case I jinx it.
I glance up over my wineglass to find Finn tracking my every move. Again. My cheeks get hot.
“You’re staring.”
Finn blinks and smiles. “Sorry. I imagine you’re used to having a man’s eyes on you. Doesn’t mean I get to forget my manners.”
