And after last night, I saw him so differently. He was still the man who preferred to remain at the perimeter, watching and taking note of what was said and how, but he’d also been this relaxed, funny guy, with a bunch of other guys, just enjoying a drink in a bar. He could unwind, be social, laugh at himself and others in his gentle way.

He’d teased me again—in front of his brother—his dark eyes shining with amusement and fondness. I felt my stomach swoop low, my heart trip in my chest as I remembered. Would he be like this the entire trip? And if he was, how would I manage to keep from falling at his feet, professing my love?

Gah.

I could name at least a hundred ways in which I could screw this up on a normal workday. But today? Tired and suffering the effects of jet lag? Who knew what could happen.

I could practically feel the heavy bags under my eyes, but even so, a jolt of adrenaline surged through my veins. My heart raced when I imagined us working so closely together today, both of us bent over a file on the table, our shoulders side by side and his soft hair falling down over his forehead.

This was going to be a train wreck for sure.

Food was the last thing on my mind, but I needed to bring my A-game today. I ordered room service and was thrilled to hear the little doorbell only minutes after I stepped from the shower.

The scent of breakfast wafted in from the hallway, and any thought of not being hungry flew right out the window. I raced to the door, stopping to double-check the modesty of my robe before I let the waiter in, because it was far too early to find the humor in any accidental wardrobe malfunctions.

I signed the bill and was just closing my door when Niall Stella walked down from the elevators.

Holy hell. He had been to the gym.

“Good morning, Ruby.”

Stay cool, Ruby. You’ve got this. “Morning. You’re up early.” I said.

The Number of Times I’d Seen Niall Stella Sweaty: one.

I tried to covertly look him over, but subtlety was a wasted effort. I thought Niall Stella knew how to wear a suit, but he wore T-shirts like it was his life’s calling. I wanted to pray at the altar of his dark, sincerely tight blue shirt. He wore it so unself-consciously. So unironically. Knowing him, he picked it out for some complicated aerodynamic reason. And holy lord did it do wonderful things to his chest.

His posture was straight, stomach flat, and chest defined and bulkier than I’d expected. He wore what looked like soccer shorts and his legs were just as muscular as I imagined. Seeing him like this, I was struck by his height all over again. I was on the tall side and I’d never been around a man who made me feel so tiny and feminine. This close to him, and with the clean scent of his sweat between us, I was starkly aware of my curves, my mouth, and how he towered over me by several inches. Without effort, everything about him was so dramatically masculine.

“Room service delivery of Fritos?” he teased, and motioned to my robe.

I looked down and laughed. “I was planning on wearing this for the rest of the month, hope that works for you.” I tugged on the tie and watched as his eyes followed the movement.

Sweet Lord.

I wanted to reach out and drag him to me, using the neck of his shirt to pull him down on the bed. Or maybe I could wrap the sweaty hem of it around my wrist, use it for leverage while he fucked me from behind . . .

Oh.

I felt my cheeks grow warm.

He leaned a broad shoulder against the wall, facing me. “The dress you wore last night was rather lovely. Perhaps you could alternate days?”

I laughed. “I—”

Wait, what?

My eyes went wide as I processed what he’d said. His cheeks were pink, too, but he held my gaze. Don’t get flustered, Ruby. Don’t get flustered.

“That’s a good idea,” I said, feeling an enormous grin invade my face. I pretended to smooth the skirt of the robe down my thighs. “This might be a bit drafty.”

Nodding, he seemed to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “I suspect it would be.”

I pointed my thumb behind me. “So . . . I’ll just go put on some actual clothes.”

“All right. Let me shower and I’ll meet you downstairs?” he asked as I turned to go back in my room.

Imaginary Secretary, please add Watching Niall Stella Shower to my bucket list. Move it to the top, if it’s not too much trouble.

“Good plan.”

He nodded once crisply. “I’ll be fast.”

“No,” I said, too loud, too quickly. I closed my eyes, inhaling a calming breath. “Take your time.”

He paused with his keycard inserted into the door next to mine and looked over his shoulder at me. The tiny smile told me he read every thought on my face before I had a chance to pull it into order.