Page 66 of Playing Mr. Perfect

He closes the distance between us. “These are for you.” He hands me the vase of roses.

“Thank you.” I sound as stunned and confused as I feel. He puts his hand on my hip, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. Cedarwood, vanilla, and the unique scent of him envelop me like a favorite blanket. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” he says like the answer is obvious. As if anyone who missed me would show up out of the blue at my work.

My heart hasn’t taken notice of a man for years, and he makes it do somersaults every single time. “You came all the way from New York just to see me?”

“I live in Jersey, but yes. I also wanted to bring you this.”

He hands me a framed picture I didn’t realize he was holding, and my breath catches. It’s the sketch of us from Paris. I’ve relived that day too many times to count, and I wondered what he’d done with the sketch. He’s giving me that look again, like I’m all he sees, making it hard to concentrate, but I manage, “You don’t want it?”

“I’m hoping I’ll still get to see it.”

My thoughts are reeling, but the clock is ticking for my call with Ravi, and I can’t make sense of anything. “I wish you’d texted. I’m about to get on an important call.”

“Texting doesn’t get me very far with you, but no worries. I know you’re busy. Take your time. I can wait.”

He shrugs off his jacket, and holy cow he’s gorgeous in a fitted navy button-down and dark slacks as he lays his jacket over the arm of one of the lobby chairs and sits down. He crosses his ankle over his knee, as casual as can be, picks up a magazine, and starts leafing through it, while I try to remember how to breathe.

“Just about ready, Pep?”

I startle at Ravi’s voice and spin around.

I must look as rattled as I feel, because Ravi comes to my side, his gaze moving curiously and protectively between me and Clay. “Everything okay?”

No. My worlds are colliding, and I think I might throw up. “Yes. Fine. This is Clay. He just showed up…out of nowhere.”

Ravi looks relieved, and amused, which annoys the heck out of me.

Clay rises to his feet and offers his hand. “Clay Braden.”

“I recognize you.” Ravi shakes his hand. “I’m Ravi Bhandara, a big fan. Too bad about the playoffs, but you played a great game.”

“Thanks, Ravi.” His gaze flicks to me briefly, then back to Ravi. “I appreciate that. Pepper has told me a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder. “Pep and I go way back.”

“So I’ve heard.” Clay eyes Ravi’s arm around me, his jaw tight. “She and I are more recently acquainted.”

Why does this feel like he’s trying to one-up Ravi? He’s not jealous, is he? Why does that turn me on? My cheeks burn. Ohmygod. What is happening right now? This cannot happen. I duck out from under Ravi’s arm. “Okay, well, Ravi and I have a conference call to make. Clay, do you want me to text you when I’m done working? It might be late.”

“That’s okay. As I said, I’ll wait. Good luck on the call. It’s nice to meet you, Ravi.” Clay nods to him. Then he sits back down and picks up the magazine again.

“There’s coffee in the break room, which is just down that hall.” Ravi points in the direction of the break room.

I look imploringly at Ravi. Don’t say that. He’ll never leave, and I’ll have mush brain forever.

“Thanks,” Clay says.

“Are we good to go, Pep?” Ravi asks, snapping me from my stupor.

“Yes.” I stalk toward my office, my mind reeling.

Ravi keeps pace with me, but he doesn’t say a word until we’re behind closed doors. “Whoa. That was hot.”

“What are you talking about? This is a nightmare.” I put the vase and the picture on the table in my office and wring my hands.

He laughs. “More like a fantasy. There were so many sparks flying between you two, I thought the lobby would go up in flames.”