Page 2

Nope, it was just before eight thirty, her start time, so she wasn’t early. Nor was she late.

Today wasn’t a public holiday she’d forgotten about, was it? Admittedly, she’d spent her Sunday with her eyes glued to her Kindle as she lazed on her couch all day, hoping to lose herself in her book so that she could forget about what had happened Saturday night.

She looked over her shoulder and found the hallway empty. Where was Damon? He wasn’t still standing by her car was he?

“I don’t have time to work him out,” she muttered to herself as she inserted the office key into the lock and twisted it. Once inside, she flicked the lights on and checked her desk to see if anyone had left her a note explaining everyone’s absence, but the surface was empty.

In all the time she’d been working at Power Security as their receptionist, she could easily count on one hand how many times she had to open the office—once. Today was that day.

Given the fact that all the guys were now married or engaged, they obviously had better things to do than get to the office before everyone else.

But that didn’t explain why Damon hadn’t been a couple minutes behind her. He still hadn’t arrived when she’d sat back down at her desk after she’d turned the coffee machine on and grabbed herself a glass of water.

“Not my problem. He can do what he wants.” She fired up her computer and checked the answering machine to see if any calls had come in over the weekend.

She listened to them and jotted down the relevant information to pass onto Steve so he could call them back. There were a couple of messages for the other guys, and she wrote them out was well.

Finally, the door opened and Damon walked in. Their gazes met and held for a second before she looked away, feeling her cheeks heat.

Great, now her body was betraying her.

After the first week of working at Power Security, she’d managed to control her body’s reactions to Damon. She’d been able to hold a conversation with him without stuttering over her words, or blushing like a schoolgirl.

“I’ve got a message here for you,” she plucked up one of the notes she’d written and held it out for him.

“Thanks.” The tips of his fingers brushed hers as he grasped the piece of paper. A shiver of awareness trickled down her spine, and the fine hairs on her arms rose. A disconnect in her brain materialized.

Let go of the paper. Let go!

Yet her fingers refused to follow the instruction.

More importantly, why wasn’t Damon tugging it in an attempt to release it from her grasp?

Reluctantly, she looked up at him, and like he had in the parking garage, his attention was fixed on her.

“Damon?” His name a breathless whisper, but loud enough to jolt him out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into. He tugged the paper, and this time her brain obeyed, and she released her hold on it.

With a few strides, he disappeared through the door behind her desk into the bowels of the office. All the tension in her body slid away, and she fell forward, her head landing on the wooden surface with a soft thud.

What the hell was going on?

Chapter

Two

Damon sat at his desk, the message Margot had given him crumpled in his hand.

What the hell was going on with him?

For years, he’d managed to keep the relationship between him and Margot professional but friendly. There had even been the odd time when they’d shared a joke. Most of the time though, he spoke to her when he had to. Kept those interactions casual and mainly work related.

It hadn’t been easy to be friendly and keep his distance from her. He’d been attracted to Margo from the moment she’d arrived for her interview. He’d sat in with Steve and hadn’t said too much to her. He’d caught her looking at him, but he’d kept his expression neutral.

His boss and friend had queried him after, why he hadn’t asked any questions, and Damon had fobbed him off with a lame excuse about it not being necessary as Steve had done a thorough job handling it all.

Even with all his friends falling in love around him, he hadn’t allowed himself to consider anything more with Margot—until she’d been shot. The very idea that she could’ve died and he would’ve never known what it was like to sample her lips, to talk to her, really talk to her, laugh with her and sleep with her, had been a wakeup call for him.

Yet, he’d still kept his distance. He hadn’t done a damn thing. It seemed some habits were hard to break.