Love All The Way

9| Come hither

Competing with Milo involves a lot of glaring over polystyrene cups. We're opposite each other in another pointless board meeting, him in his expensive suit and a green patterned tie that would look stupid on anyone else, but somehow he manages to pull off, and me in a blue dress with a foundation stain on the collar that I'd only noticed an hour ago.

He's clutching his coffee cup, listening to Paul drone on and on, but it's me he's staring at. His eyes have taken on this dark, come hither look, like he's thinking about our elevator tryst. Despite being over a week ago, I can't stop thinking about it, either.

"So, any updates before we wrap this up?" Paul asks. "Your staging problem fixed, Kenny?" I almost glare at him for calling me Kenny, but Paul is sweet, and my glare is sharp enough that he'd probably turn to stone.

"All fixed," I say, making a point of staring at Milo. "I've got a private viewing tonight and an open viewing tomorrow."

The private viewing had been a last-minute saving grace from Jess. A friend of her friend, who happened to be a wealthy IT guru for some start-up company, had heard about my property and thrown me a bone by arranging a private viewing. Apparently, when you're that wealthy, you don't want to have to explore a property with the rest of us lowly peasants. Still, if all goes well, I could be looking at a hefty commission and will have beat Milo to the punch. Even though he's kept his dealings close to his chest, it's clear no one's risen to his bait.

"And what about you, Milo?"

His eyes flit to mine. "I have an open viewing tonight and tomorrow also."

"Sounds good," Paul says as he turns to Harry and Patricia, but I've already zoned out.

Milo has a showing on the same night as me. His apartment is opposite mine. The viewing will be the most important night in this promotion thus far, and there's no way in hell I can avoid running into him.

Great.

As soon as the meeting is over, Milo and I are practically in a two-person race to the coffee machine. I get there first and feel the tiniest satisfaction despite the fact we are behaving like children.

"I hope your viewing goes well tonight," he says. It sounds as if he's being sincere, but I'm certain if I were to turn around, he'd be smirking.

"Thank you," I say, pressing the button for Espresso. "My client seemed very interested on the phone, so I have high hopes." I pick up my coffee cup before slowly turning to face him. "What a coincidence that we have a viewing on the same night. Planning on more sabotage?"

His eyes darken like maybe he's actually hurt. "I didn't mean to sabotage you." He leans closer now and positions his mouth near my ear. "I'm sorry."

I swallow hard. Not because I don't believe him, but because I think maybe I do. "Well," I say, "I hope it goes well for you."

He laughs now, a deep, warm guffaw that I feel in my toes. "You're a god-awful liar, Kennedy."

"I mean it," I say. "Part of being professional means being able to cheer on your opponents."

He takes the tiniest step closer, making my breath hitch. "Professional?" He says the word so quietly, so disbelievingly, that I just know he's thinking about our kiss and my sabotaging. "Is that what we are?"

I can't take the way he's looking at me. It's so different from the way he usually looks at me, like behind those blue eyes, there's something other than disdain or judgment or a desire to rip off my clothes. There is vulnerability.

Briefly, I think about what could have been. About how things would be if we'd carried on after the day Luke came to pick up his stuff from my apartment. Our dinner and subsequent walk through the city had felt like a fairytale, and that kiss...God, that kiss. In another world, another life, Milo could have been it, the one, butterflies, fireworks, explosions – the lot.