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She touched her jacket self-consciously but didn’t reply.
He opened the bag of food, took out the foil-wrapped sandwich and the soup container and opened it. “Do you own any Dawson brand clothing, Ms. Smith?”
“I – uh, I have one suit.”
He ate a spoonful of soup. Jane’s stomach growled loudly, and he raised his eyebrow at her.
“I’m so sorry.” She pressed her hand against her flat stomach.
“So, your suit is the one you wore to the interview?” he asked.
She nodded, and he couldn’t hide the distaste that flickered across his face. “I see. Most of your clothes are from Walmart, then?”
Her face, which had begun to pale, turned a fiery red, and she blinked rapidly. He groaned under his breath. Now, the waterworks would start.
“Am I not dressed professionally enough?” she asked quietly.
“It’s fine.” His tone suggested that it wasn’t fine, and she chewed at her bottom lip before backing toward the door.
“Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Dawson.”
“Thank you, Ms. Smith.”
* * *
Luke buttoned his jacket and handed a pile of papers to Jane. He glanced at his watch. It was past six, and he would be late if he didn’t get his ass moving.
“I’m leaving for the day, Ms. Smith. You should go as well. The rest of it can wait until Monday.”
“Okay. Have a nice weekend, Mr. Dawson.”
Halfway to the elevator, he grabbed his jacket pocket and muttered a curse. He had left his cell on his desk. He walked back toward his office. Jane wasn’t at her desk, and he stopped abruptly in his office doorway.
He had eaten his soup but only half his sandwich at lunch. He’d wrapped the other half back in the foil and tossed it in the trash can under his desk. Jane held the foil-wrapped sandwich in her hand, and as he watched, she unwrapped it and studied the sandwich before carefully wrapping it up again and tucking it into her purse.
He backed away from the doorway and leaned against Jane’s desk. He had just caught his assistant stealing his half-eaten sandwich from the trash. What the hell did he do now?
Nothing, he decided. What could he do? Demand she throw his old food back in the trash? He started toward his office again as Jane came barreling out of his office with his phone in her tiny hand. She ran straight into him and bounced off his chest. He caught her around the waist before she could fall.
She stared at him mutely, her hand clenched around his phone as he frowned. He could feel her ribs through her shirt, and without thinking, he blurted out, “You’re too thin.”
She pushed away from him, straightening her shirt and holding out his cell phone. “You forgot your phone.”
“Thanks.” He stuck it into his pocket. “Why are you still here?”
“I was just leaving,” she replied.
She slipped into her jacket and zipped it up. “Good night, Mr. Dawson.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said. “It’s late.”
“Oh, I’m taking the bus,” she replied.
He followed her to the elevator, and they stood in awkward silence as they waited for it. He cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying your new job, Ms. Smith?”
“Very much,” she said without looking at him. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
He sighed. Jane hadn’t looked him in the eye since he’d commented on her clothes at lunch, and he could feel guilt creeping in. He ignored it. He didn’t need to be friends with his assistant. Still, it was obvious that he had hurt her feelings, which bothered him for some reason.
