He wasn’t worried about the schedule. He knew that she would cross every T and dot every I the same as she always did. “Just don’t go getting so romantic tonight you end up needing another maternity leave.”
Ruth laughed and walked away.
He waited until she closed things up for the day and locked the front door on her way out. Then he dropped his pen and turned away from the contract that he hadn’t been able to read a word of and shoved his hands through his hair.
It was like this nearly every Tuesday and Friday because those were the days that Shea went by Cornelia Hunt’s office to pick up or drop off her latest assignment. The fact that this Friday also happened to be Valentine’s Day was moot.
Also moot was trying to pretend that he wasn’t going to go next door and bum a cup of coffee off of them. Pretty damn pathetic that it was the only time he had a hope in hell of exchanging a few words with Shea Weatherby.
Sleeping with her during that ice storm before Christmas hadn’t changed a single thing where she was concerned. She still gave him the brush-off. It hadn’t changed a thing where he was concerned, either, except to cement even more firmly what he’d already known.
That he wanted her like crazy.
He had from the very first time she’d approached him with her notepad and pen, looked up at him with her enormous blue eyes and her long blond hair blowing around her shoulders in the breeze, and asked if he minded if she recorded their interview.
He’d looked into those eyes and felt the world stop. He’d thought that the heavens were really smiling on him when he’d learned that she’d be regularly doing some work for Cornelia Hunt next door. And then that his chances with her were looking up after that ice storm. He was a man used to getting what he went after and one night wasn’t enough.
But she had remained stubbornly resistant. She’d slept with him, yes. But she’d refused to see him again. Period.
He knew it wasn’t because she was uninterested.
So much of her was a mystery, but that wasn’t. It wasn’t arrogance or conceit that made him believe it, either. They’d been pussyfooting around their attraction for a good two and a half years, but the night of the ice storm, he’d hoped that they’d finally stopped playing.
He hadn’t even intended to do anything that night but keep her safe. The storm had stopped the city cold. Bridges and roads had been closed. Erik had been stuck out in Port Orchard and Pax had been at the office to take care of some paperwork. He’d seen Shea’s car parked in front of Cornelia’s building and so he’d waited around. Then, when the storm descended in earnest and her car hadn’t started...
Of course he’d given her shelter.
Only she’d kissed him. And given him hope.
After all this time of being shot down by her, she’d opened the door wide and he wasn’t the kind of man who ignored opportunities.
He shoved back from the desk, grabbed a coffee mug from the break room and went out the side door, crossing from the alleyway between his building and Cornelia’s to her front entrance. He went inside, passing by the discreet plaque affixed outside the door that said FGI.
He hadn’t known what the initials stood for until his partner had told him it stood for Fairy Godmothers, Inc. Erik had laughed wryly over it because he’d met his new fiancée through the business and it wasn’t a dating service at all, despite the sound of it.
As long as Erik was finally happy having fallen in love with Rory, Pax didn’t care if FGI was a dating service. But he knew Cornelia’s new business was about business—namely, helping give young women a start that they might not have otherwise been able to have.
It was one of the things Pax liked about the older woman. She cared about helping people. And she was surprisingly self-effacing and low-key for a woman who’d recently married one of the wealthiest men in the country, Harrison Hunt. He—and the computer company he’d founded, HuntCom—were household names.
What wasn’t low-key, though, was the interior of the building she’d bought several months ago. It had been in a constant state of renovation ever since, but it was clear that the place wasn’t going to be your ordinary office building. Now, the entryway was complete with a marble floor with inlaid medallions in the center, spurring a sense of guilt whenever he crossed it wearing his work boots. The space looked more like it needed to be hosting art exhibits.
Not that there was a lack of art in the space. Paintings were hung above the split, curving staircase that led to the upper landing where scaffolding was clearly visible. Pax was no expert on art, but he figured the impressionist paintings were likely originals given Harrison Hunt’s insistence that his new wife have nothing but the best.
“Good afternoon, Pax!” An attractive woman wearing glasses was descending the one side of the staircase that wasn’t cordoned off with heavy, milky white plastic. “Come for some coffee, did you?”
He lifted the mug in his hand in answer. “Hey, Phil.” Then he gestured at the plethora of red roses that were sitting in vases on every available surface, including some of the stairs. “This going to be part of the regular décor for FGI or just a comment on it being Valentine’s Day?”
Felicity Granger laughed lightly and plucked a rose from one of the staircase bouquets as she finished descending. She deftly broke off most of the stem, then reached out and tucked the tightly furled flower through a buttonhole near his collar. “Valentine’s Day, of course.” She looked around at the overwhelming floral display. “Mr. Hunt’s doing, naturally.” She smiled. “Cornelia tossed up her hands when they were delivered. I guess she figures if she can’t control her husband’s grandiose interference with the renovations here, she’s not going to be able to stop him from buying out half of the floral shops in Seattle.” Phil walked with Pax back to the fancy little break room that was better equipped than most kitchens. “I put on a fresh pot to brew when Shea arrived.” She gave Pax a sideways look. “I figured you wouldn’t be far behind.”
He grabbed the pot and dumped some in his mug. “I just came for the java.”
Phil nudged up her glasses and shrugged. “Twice a week now for how long? Month? Month and a half? When you have three minutes or so alone with her if you’re lucky? How’s that approach working for you?”
His neck felt hot. He was thirty-eight damn years old. Had been voted most eligible bachelor in Seattle three different times. Even before he and Erik hit the big time a decade ago after designing a sloop for one of Harrison’s sons, J.T., Pax had never had problems finding a date. But he couldn’t seem to get a particular short, curvy blonde to take him seriously at all. “FGI isn’t supposed to be a dating service,” he muttered. If it was, maybe he should consider hiring them to improve his chances.
Phil just laughed again. “Shea’s upstairs in Cornelia’s office but I’m pretty sure they’re nearly finished,” she said as she headed out of the break room. “In case you decide you want to try a more direct approach.”
Pax had visited the offices at the top of the stairs only once when Cornelia had given him a tour of the ongoing renovations. He damn sure wasn’t going to go up there now to hunt down Shea. Instead, he leaned back against the granite-topped counter and leisurely sipped his coffee.
It really was a helluva cup of coffee. And he knew Shea wasn’t likely to leave the place without first filling up the travel mug that she always had with her.
He knew the second she was heading down the staircase, not just because he could hear her voice as she spoke with Cornelia, but because his nerves twitched the way they always did whenever she was in the vicinity.