Catarina

Around four o’clock, Barrett walked into Mia’s office. I heard him knock on her door and stood up in time to watch over my privacy wall as she opened the door for him and he invited himself in. Then the door shut.

That was thirty minutes ago.

I passed by a few times, pretending to go to the restroom, then pretending to fill my coffee cup. I’ve now dropped all pretenses, taking to pacing back and forth in front of the slatted blinds covering her windows. I can see the outline of their figures, but the angle of the blinds prevents me from making out more.

Just as I gather my courage to knock on Mia’s door, it swings aside and I’m greeted with a tall, handsome Barrett.

“Hey, Kitty Cat.”

“Catarina,” Mia says when Barrett steps aside. “Do you need something?”

“Um. No. I mean, yes. I was just looking for Barrett.”

“She can’t stay away from me.” He shrugs for Mia’s benefit and Mia laughs—a trilling, swoony sound. “That’s your fault, by the way.”

“I’ll take credit for that,” she responds. Was it me, or did she totally flutter her lashes? Unbelievable.

Her door shuts again and I race after Barrett, who is meandering to his cubicle like he has nothing to explain.

“What happened?” I ask.

“What do you think?” He shoves his laptop into his bag. Then a pen and notebook. Then the stapler. When he reaches for the tape dispenser, I grab his wrist.

“Were you…fired?”

“You’re so easy.” He places the tape dispenser and the stapler back on the desk. “No. I am not fired. I turned in my column and sat down to talk with her.”

“What did you say?” Whatever it was must’ve been flooring. When I returned from lunch, Mia wasn’t happy and a minute ago she looked ready to dance a jig. When I texted her to explain, she texted back “talk later” and stayed in her office the remainder of the afternoon. I noticed she went to the ladies’ room but I stopped short of chasing her in there to apologize for my insubordination.

“I told her everything.” He lays a hand on my jaw and bends his face very close to mine. I jerk my face away.

“We’re at the office, Fox.”

“My little rule-follower.” He lays his lips on mine. I push against his chest, but he holds fast and finishes the kiss before releasing me.

“Everything,” I repeat. “What does that mean? Fox, what does that mean?”

“Breathe.” He rests one large hand on my shoulder. “I’m kidding. I handled it. It’s fine.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t think I’d tell her about us, did you?”

I send a cautious glance to the left and right. No one is around.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asks.

“I’m…I don’t know. Going home.”

“Want me to come with you?”

There’s an invitation.

“No.” My eyebrows crash down. “I’m mad at you.”

“That may well be, but we have work to do. More dates. I have a few ideas.”

“You can share them now. You don’t have to follow me home.” I fold my arms over my chest. Partially to look obstinate and partially to conceal my troublesome nipples. Parts of me would love if he came to my house tonight. I know what would happen if he did. Sex. Lots of yummy sex. I send an appreciative gaze over his chest and sigh.

“You do like to tell yourself no,” he observes with a smile. “Drinks, then? I’ll take you to a public place.” He holds up his hands. “I won’t touch you.”

I roll my eyes. Mostly at myself for considering his offer.

“Unless you ask.” He leans forward and whispers in my ear. “But you have to tell me where to touch you or all bets are off.”

I drop my arms and let out a huff of frustration. Barrett only grins.

“Come on.” He elbows my arm. “I’ll walk you out.”

Barrett

Yeah, so that night I managed to talk her into a drink at a local bar. Kind of. She drank iced tea and I slugged back a bottle of light beer. She jotted notes about our dating plans onto her iPhone while I tried to make her smile. I succeeded—twice—but we didn’t go back to her place or mine. We returned to our respective homes and then we finished out the week apart—me writing (or attempting to) mostly away from the Columbus Dispatch office.

Mia was okay with the timeline I’d proposed, and for that I was grateful. To prove to her that I wasn’t a total slouch, I show up Friday to work at my cubicle like a good little newspaper-column writer.

Mia appears in the doorway of my cube at five minutes till five, right when I’m packing to leave.

“You two have quite the evening planned, I hear.”

“Yeah, well. You said readers wanted to see my world.” Since running into my former OSU quarterback at the beer festival, Jackson Burke and I have been in touch. Tonight he’s throwing a huge bash at his house and we’re invited. Given the kinds of parties Burke used to throw I expect this to be the kegger to end all keggers.

“The second article runs Sunday and readers are already clamoring for more. Catarina’s rigid country club golf against your beer-and-cheese-fries night.” Mia’s excitability is scaring me. “Tomorrow night’s cocktail party for the Dispatch at the governor’s house will make for a nice wrap-up.”

The what now?

“Uh, right,” I say, not wanting to sound like a moron.

“Wear a tux.”

“No problem.”

“Catarina, see you tomorrow evening,” Mia calls and then steps out from between us. I clash eyes with my date for the evening.

Catarina shuts the lid on her laptop and studiously ignores me. I call across the empty office, since I’m not one to be ignored.

“Kitty Cat!”

“Shut up, Fox.”

“You didn’t tell me you’re taking me to a soirée for the paper tomorrow.”

“I’m not.” She won’t look at me, stuffing a few things into her purse instead.

“Mia said I’m going.”

“Okay.” She gives me a bland blink. “You can be her date.”

I sigh and stroll over to her desk as she stands. She dressed down today in a slim pair of dark jeans, and a red shirt that shows off both of her creamy, bare shoulders. I could take a bite, she looks so damn good.

“Missed you this week.” I glide my finger along the swell of one of those shoulders.

“That’s nice.” She shifts away from my touch and rounds her desk. I stand in her way. She’s wearing a pair of black-framed glasses that make her eyes look twice as large, her eyelashes twice as long. She looks like a sex-kitten librarian and my dick throbs in approval.

“Need a reminder?” I ask, my voice husky.

“Of what?”

“Of how compatible we are?” I step closer, lowering my head, but she takes a deliberate step back.

“No, thanks. What time should I meet you tonight?”

“I’m picking you up.”

“Again: No, thanks. I can find Jackson’s house on my own. Text me the address when you have a second.” And she’s off, clipping her way to the elevator in her practical, flat shoes.

I snag my leather bag before giving chase, diving into the elevator as the doors slide shut. We glide down two floors before I punch the red emergency button and we jerk to a stop.

Her expression is one for the books. Anger, shock, and irritation vie for first place. When she reaches past me for the button, I swat her hand away and cage her into a corner.

“Kitty Cat.”

“Get away from me.”

“Forget it.”

She puts her palms on my chest and shoves and I stand over her, refusing to move. I use every pound on my frame to plant myself squarely in her personal space.

“I like you angry. I like you passionate. I like you, period,” I let her know. “But I don’t like this aloof thing you have going on.”

“Big word for you.” She lifts one eyebrow.

“I also don’t like you mean.” I tip her chin and she lets me, her expression softening with her tempting parted lips.

“Can we do this later?” she asks. Her eyes are downright hypnotizing when magnified behind those lenses. “Please?”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

She sighs. I take it as a yes.

I cancel the emergency stop and we bump to a start again, Catarina losing her balance. When she lashes out a hand to steady herself, she reaches for me. Before she can move her hand off my arm, I cover it with my other hand and place a kiss on her knuckles.

She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t blush. She doesn’t look angry, but cautious. Maybe nervous.

I’m going to find out why.

When I arrive at her place at eight o’clock.