I had a toothbrush at Dean’s house, a hand intertwined with his, and a deadline for a client in thirty minutes. Dean and I had been together for nearly two weeks now. It hadn’t been a long relationship but already, it was the best in my life.

Sure, we couldn’t tell anyone, my brother was still hounding me for information on “the hot drunk guy” I went home with, and if Cheryl got any more suspicious about us, I was going to have to point out that I knew she was secretly with Clark.

“You gonna get this finished?” Dean asked, not looking up from his computer. He was reading a spreadsheet that I didn’t have the time to look at.

I sighed and took my hand away from his so I could scrub at my face. “Yes,” I answered. “The Jenkins account is a big one for us. I’ve been working with them for years. Last minute alterations are—frustrating but not necessarily impossible to adjust for.”

Dean glanced up from the computer. “Good. I’m lucky to have you.”

My cheeks burned. There was no one else in the conference room—we tended to do our weekly meetings right before lunch. While the rest of the team would dart out as quick as possible for the long lunch Dean offered on Wednesdays, we would stay behind and take our lunch later.

I had heard Clark remark that he had never seen anyone as hard working as me. I wondered if he would still think that if he knew I stuck to this new schedule so that I could steal a few minutes with Dean alone.

“Is that so?” I murmured, twirling the pen in my hand, still frowning at the papers in front of me even as I teased Dean. “Is that from Dean or Mr. Cannon?”

“Wouldn’t you know?” His chair scooted closer to mine and after a brief hesitation, he placed a kiss on the side of my neck. “I’m one in the same.”

I sighed happily and let my neck roll back, allowing Dean more room. He was careful to only press light, open-mouthed kisses on me. We learned the hard way last week that someone in the office would notice a surprise lunchtime hickey.

I felt full around Dean—like I was calm, at my best. The nerves I still felt were born from a hopeful place, just the excitement of being near him. Never before had I felt so sure of another person.

I was even considering telling Joey about him when I saw him next. It would be a step and, yes, I was pretty sure that my older brother would make fun of me for the rest of my life for actually getting together with the guy that he threw me at, but the idea of Joey and Dean meeting—it filled me to the brim with satiated happiness. I wanted the two most important people in my life to get along.

Dean nipped at the sensitive place below my ear and I hissed, knocking him away. My heart was beating much too quickly. “Dean,” I chastised, scooting my chair away. I looked over to the door nervously. “You aren’t allowed to do that. We’re at work.”

Dean propped his chin up on his hand, grinning at me. He had a great grin. This one was wide enough to bring his dimples in and from so close, the smattering of freckles across his forehead and nose were visible. He was so handsome my breath nearly caught in my throat.

“What are they gonna do?” Dean asked, winking at me. “Tell the boss?”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. I dove back into work and with a put-upon sigh, Dean did, too.

The past two weeks had been wonderful, if a little sparse. Work was picking up with the regional board meeting this weekend and I was looking forward to the freedom the next week would bring.

When I finished the Jenkins account, Dean was already packing up. “Sorry, Swan,” he said, and that’s when I noticed that the door had been propped opened and there were a few people milling in. I looked at them, smiling in greeting, before giving Dean my attention. “Time flies. Gotta run.”

I bit back a grin. His voice had dropped to a gruffer tone as if that would hide the affection in it. I’m sure it worked for everyone else; I could still hear it plain as day.

“Of course, sir,” I said, not missing the way his eyes narrowed just a little. Then his face smoothed. “Have a good afternoon.”

He gave me an exasperated look when his back was turned to the others before he grabbed his stuff and left. I laughed.

I kept working in the conference room for a while, if only because I knew that Cheryl and Clark liked to spend Wednesday afternoons complaining about work in my office. The fact that those two were still ardently pretending not to be smitten with each other was admirable if not pointless.

I got lost in the work, startling out nearly two hours later when my phone’s ringtone broke my concentration.

I frowned at looked down at the caller ID. Unknown.

If it was Jenkins again, I was going to cry. The client brought in most of my commission but Lord, there was only so much I could take.

“Hello?” I held the phone up between my ear and shoulder as I finished typing the report. I didn’t want to lose the train of thought and it was unlikely that Jenkins would get to the point within the first twenty minutes anyway.

“Swan?”

I froze. I pulled the phone away to look at the caller ID again and then put the phone back up to my ear. That voice was familiar. “Yes. Who am I speaking with?”

There was a loud rustling sound and then quiet. “Forgotten me so quickly, son?”

Now that the background was quieter, I could clearly hear the deep voice of my old boss. “Mr. White,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You didn’t come up in my phone.”

“New number,” he answered quickly. The rustling was back. “How’s Chicago treating you?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Very well, sir. I’m—the city is nice.”

He made a huffing sound and I suddenly felt very guilty. In the rush of emotions about Dean, I had forgotten what had to happen for us to meet—namely, the merger, and the firing of my old boss and mentor.

His voice was a little angrier and I tried to not feel sick. “Good. I’m so—glad.”

I rapped my knuckles against the table, considering. “How are you doing, Mr. White?”

“Please, call me Marcus. I’m not your boss anymore.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Okay.”

“You haven’t been answering my emails or calls.”

Guilt flashed. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been busy and—”

He interrupted me. “Tell me about your new boss—what’s his name again?”

“Dean Cannon,” I answered, already feeling the goofy smile make a reappearance. Even just thinking about Dean was great. “He’s—nice. The merger has gone smoothly.”

“Good.” His voice sounded tight and then there was that shuffling sound again. “Listen, kid, I’ve got to go. It was good chatting with you.”

“Oh, okay, goodbye Mr.—” the phone clicked off and I finished lamely, “White.”

I set my cell back on the table and frowned down at it. That was odd. Well, I thought, he’s probably going through a lot right now. White had been at the company for years. He had built his whole life around it. I was sure it would be difficult to adjust to such a huge change.

I finished the report and sent it off to the printer, gathering my laptop and folders and tucking them under my arm. Clark looked up from his computer when I came in.

He looked a little rattled. I paused to look at him. “Doing alright?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “Cheryl brought you coffee. And a muffin since you never eat.”

I sat my belongings on the desk and smiled down at the muffin—blueberry, my favorite, and a large cup of black coffee. I lifted it and took a sip. It was a little cold but not unbearably so. I grabbed my muffin and leaned against my desk, eating it while I watched Clark fidget.

He was a good man. I was growing fond of my new colleagues. Although Boston had a great team and I loved my job there, this merger made the teams feel more like a family. I enjoyed spending time with them.

“Half-day Friday,” I said, still picking at the blueberries.

Clark perked up. “I know! Love it when Cannon goes off. We’re going to go back to the barcade. You in?”

I finished off the muffin and dropped the wrapper in the trash can, considering. Dean would be gone this weekend, at the convention down in St. Louis. And besides, I hadn’t seen anyone outside of work in a few weeks.

“Sure,” I said, smiling.

Clark grinned. “Awesome.” He grabbed his phone and started texting. “I’m gonna tell Cheryl.”

I stopped short of rolling my eyes at him, grabbing my coffee and the report I had printed out. “Of course.”

I nodded at him and left the office, walking the short distance to Dean’s.

Cheryl lifted one finger as she used her other hand to text. Then she glanced up at me, grinning. “You’re coming to the barcade Friday!”

I laughed. “News travels fast.”

She winked. “I know all, my friend.”

I smiled fondly at her. “I’m sure you do. Is—Mr. Cannon free?” I tripped over his name, nearly calling him Dean.

She shrugged and grabbed her phone, clicking a few buttons and holding the receiver up to her ear. “Hiya, Mr. Cannon, I’ve got Jimmy here—oh, sure. Yep.” She hung up the phone and nodded toward the door. “Go ahead, hot shot.”

I ignored the nickname, thanking her and knocked twice before opening the door.

Dean was leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head and a huge grin on his face. When I closed the door behind me, he started teasing. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

I rolled my eyes and crossed the room, setting the report on his desk and throwing myself in the chair across from him. “I finished the report.”

“Oh,” he sat straighter and grabbed the pages, eyes flickering across them. “Thanks! Damn, that was quick.”

“I’m a fast worker.”

“You sure are,” he winked.

I sighed and shook my head at him, even though my stomach was flipping with a giddiness I couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Is this a satisfactory report?”

“Yeah, Jim.” He laughed and sat it down. “I’m sure it’s great. I’ll read it more closely in a bit.”

I smiled. “Good.”

He leaned forward, his fingers intertwining as he rested his elbows on the table. “You want to come over for dinner tonight?”

Dean was grinning, that sharp, smirking smile that meant something a bit more than dinner—I felt my veins heat at the implications. My chest tightened and I scooted further forward on my seat, arms resting on his desk as well. “I—would like that.”

He tilted his head, his hands separating so they could reach across the small space between us and he grabbed my hands in his, thumbs rubbing across the curve of my knuckles. “It has been a long week.”

“Very long,” I said. I hooked my ankles around the legs of my chair and pushed myself closer to the desk. My knees and shins were pressed against the hardwood now. “We deserve a break.”

His gaze slid across my face, down my neck, back up again. It was a physical sensation and I shivered.

“If I’m gonna be a good boss, I should make sure you get a break,” he said, “I should make sure you’re feeling—relaxed, for the rest of the week.”

Anticipation coiled in my chest. I tore my eyes away from Dean’s, even though it took nearly all of my concentration to do so, and looked down at my watch—three forty-five. Just a little while longer.

“I could meet you at yours,” I offered. The anxiety of being caught still sat beneath the surface of our interactions. I felt on edge, half from Dean’s eyes and half from the unlocked door, a few feet away.

We were close enough that our mouths nearly touched. We were both stretched across the desk and my lips tingled. His thumbs were heavy pressure on my hands and I had half a mind to jump over the desk. My lips parted and I leaned closer.

There was a knock on the door and we both jumped apart. My knees slammed into the desk.

“Fuck!” I yelped, leaning back in the chair to grab at my knees. Dean shot me a concerned look, his face apologetic, before Cheryl stuck her head into the room.

“Sorry, Boss,” she said, shooting me as strange look. I tried to hide the grimace and look professional. I couldn’t imagine I was doing a very good job. “You’ve got a meeting in ten.”

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath before pulling his shoulders back and smiling at his assistant. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

Cheryl left the room, the door clicking behind her, and Dean gave me a half-hearted shrug.

I returned it, frowning. “That was close.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding as frustrated as I felt. “I—I’ll see you tonight?”

I softened. “Yes,” I said. “Say six?”

Dean reached across the desk again and I slipped my hand into his. He squeezed it and I squeezed back.

I didn’t want to leave the room. I didn’t want to jump apart like we were burned when someone came near us. It had happened before, would happen again.

It was—inappropriate, for us to be together. Taking it to HR would have implications for both our jobs. I didn’t want to risk our positions in the company. But if we didn’t, would we ever be able to stand near each other without arousing suspicion? Would we be able to go out to eat where others could see us? Could we ever leave in the same car or carpool to work together?

It had only been a few weeks but I already knew what I had told Dean was true. I was in this, for the long haul. I wanted it to be real.