Page 164 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Oh, please. You left powdery fingerprints all over your steering wheel.” She wished Carlos a good night and slipped inside the building. I followed Cora across the lobby. She paused at the elevator, turned to me, and said, “Guess that’s your job done then.”

I leaned casually against the wall next to her, reaching for the call button. “This is door-to-door service.”

“Oh, is that right? Part of the full CEO pickup and drop-off service?”

“Exactly. You’re subscribed to the full package.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing. “The fine print says I’m safe and sound now. Nothing’s gonna get me between the elevator and my apartment.”

I winked at her, liking the color that spread across the tops of her cheekbones. “You never know.”

The elevator door dinged, rolling open, and Cora stepped inside. I sauntered in behind her. “I really don’t need an escort.”

“I’m here now. Might as well go for the ride.” She eyed me, playfully suspicious as she hit the button for the seventh floor. When she’d settled back into her corner of the elevator, I asked, “How long have you been living here?”

“In my current apartment? About a year,” Cora said. “The place is a little small since I share it with Jennifer—you remember Jennifer, right? She was with me at Bottom of the Barrel.”

“The brunette with the Dirty Shirleys?”

“That’s right. She’s awesome—bad taste in drinks aside—and she really came through for me when I needed a new living situation stat last year, letting me move in with her even though it’s just a one-bedroom.”

I let out a low whistle. “Sharing a one-bedroom? Is it like being back in college?”

“Kind of? We both work weird hours, so we don’t actually get in each other’s way much. The bigger problem is that I tend to hog the kitchen when I’m making my videos. That’s another reason why the lab has been such a godsend. But we’re making it work. Plus, I love the neighborhood.”

I was about to tell her not to worry, that she could use the lab long after her contract ended, but the words wouldn’t leave my mouth. Did I even want her contract to end?

The elevator released us on the seventh floor, and I followed Cora to the end of the hall. A soft yellow light glowed above the silver number next to her unit.

“This is me,” she said, gesturing to the door. “Guess that officially releases you from your duties.”

“Guess it does.”

She dug her key out of her purse and unlocked the door, her hand falling away from the doorknob as she looked up at me. “Thank you again. I had a really nice time.”

“Think you’ll be up to flying next time? Then I could really show you the views of the Hudson.”

She laughed. “No way in hell.”

“Too bad.”

“Is it?” she asked softly.

I leaned closer. “The helicopter is way cooler than the Ferrari.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“Guess you will.” I was close enough to count the freckles along the bridge of her nose and to study the hazel flecks in her brown eyes and the way her bottom lip jutted out just slightly. I couldn’t help myself. Today had been amazing, reminding me of the way things used to be between us, and I missed that. Missed her. I wanted her. I leaned in, going in for the goodnight kiss, watching for any indication that she was pulling away.

She wasn’t.

My lips connected with hers, and it was like coming home. I remembered doing this in another lifetime. I remembered the way I’d had to bend, making up for our height difference. I remembered the soft sounds she would make, that same sweet, perfect hum she was making now in the back of her throat. And I remembered the way her eyelashes would flutter against my cheek as the kiss deepened. I lifted my hand to cradle her jaw, to deepen the kiss, but before I could, Cora jerked away, thumping against the wall. Her eyes shot open, her fingers coming up to touch her lips, her cheeks bright red.

“Well, goodnight,” she said, turning and rushing inside without another word.

“Cora—” The door closed between us. A lock clicked. “Goodnight?”

I hardly registered the fifteen-minute drive from Cora’s place to my apartment in the Upper East Side. This half-numb, disengaged feeling must be what shock felt like. I operated on autopilot, driving into the parking garage beneath my building. The only thing I could do as I rode the elevator up to my place was relive that horrible moment she jerked away before disappearing into her apartment.