I’m twenty minutes late getting to work.

“I’m so sorry,” I say to Geetika, as I rush in. “The line at the coffee shop was crazy. I picked you up a cappuccino while I was there.”

I drop the take-away cup down on her desk and she looks up with a grin.

“Bree, you know you’re the boss and I’m the assistant, right? I should be the one bringing you coffee and apologizing for being late.”

I laugh. “Yes, but you’re never actually late. You keep me in line.”

It’s true — Geetika is the best assistant I could dream of having. She isn’t that much older than me, but she’d worked with Dad for years, and she knows the ins and outs of this business as well as anyone. Sometimes I swear she’s the only reason I manage to get anything done around here — or at least anything done right.

Hell, Dad should have just left the company to her.

She follows me into my office and gives me a run down of my day.

“Purchasing needs your final decision on the fabric selections by end of day, otherwise we’re going to have to pay rush rates. And Rich said he’s no longer available to meet at two but can do four or four-thirty if that suits you.”

I sigh and wave my hand. Rich is constantly rescheduling our meetings. I’m starting to think it’s a power trip thing. “Fine. Four is fine.”

She makes a quick note on the tablet she always carries.

I expect her to leave then, but instead she hovers at my door. I take a sip of my coffee and look up. She twists her tablet in her hands and she looks almost … nervous?

“Hey,” I say. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

She hesitates, but then puts her shoulders back.

“I just thought you should know that there are rumors circulating.”

Rumors? My heart leaps into my throat. It’s Luke that I think of immediately — is it possible that someone here knows about us?

Geetika nods. “About lay-offs.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, but the look on Geetika’s face makes it clear that this is no laughing matter.

“There aren’t going to be any lay-offs,” I assure her.

Her face eases. “Really?”

“Really.”

“So our jobs are safe?”

“As safe as can be.”

She looks visibly relieved. “That’s great. A lot of people are worried.”

“Well, spread the word. Nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks Bree. Don’t take it personally — lay-off rumors pop up every few months. Before your dad passed, we were all convinced he was planning to sell the company.”

I laugh. “As if. This is Dad’s baby.”

She shakes her head. “I suppose it seems crazy now. But at the time — well, he was just having a lot of reports pulled together and no one could figure out why. Stuff about our sales history and yearly expenditures. I guess it all makes sense now though — if he knew he was leaving the company to you, he would have wanted you to have access to that information.”

I chuckle. That was Dad — always prepared. Even when he knew he was dying, he was thinking about me.

“Oh,” Geetika says, before she leaves my office. “Tomas Rocha from the Friends of Trinity Central Hospital called just before you got here. He didn’t leave a message but he said he’d try you again later.”

“Oh, great. Thanks.”

After she’s gone, I lean back in my chair and think about the lay-off rumors. I hope Geetika does spread the word — I don’t want everyone here worrying about whether their jobs are safe. I know Rich thinks it’s the right thing to do, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I know it’s not what Dad would have wanted.

When the phone in my office rings, this time I actually recognize the number. I pick it up with a smile.

“Hi Tomas,” I greet him. “How are you?”

“I’m great, Bree,” he responds warmly. “I just wanted to thank you again for helping to cohost that welcome event the other day with Luke. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure.”

Pleasure.

My mind races back to the scene with Luke in the bathroom. The way my body had melted against his, the way every part of me had come alive — my nipples hard as rocks, my pussy soaking, my knees shaking, my heart pounding. It’s crazy that he can have that affect on me.

What’s even crazier is that days later, just the memory of his touch is enough to set off the same chain reaction of events. I clear my throat, praying Tomas can’t tell over the phone just how hot and bothered I am.

Thankfully, he seems unfazed by the fact that I’m practically panting into the phone.

“Well, we’ve had a ton of great feedback already,” he says. “The bloggers loved it, and they’ve been sharing stuff about the event and about the fundraiser all over social media. I think we’re up to something like ten million impressions now? And best of all, ticket sales are actually twenty-five percent higher than they historically are at this point in the lottery.”

“Tomas, that’s great!” With the way I’ve been letting Luke distract me lately, I’ve almost forgotten that this is a fundraiser. For a good cause. Kids with cancer, and all that. It feels good to know that Luke and I are helping to contribute to the hospital’s success.

“I knew I was smart bringing you on,” Tomas teases. “And it’s been a pleasure working with Luke as well — I hope you’ve been enjoying it too?”

“Hmm, yes, he’s ... pleasant enough.” That’s the understatement of the century.

Tomas chuckles lightly. “Yes, he’s certainly pleasant. I was a bit concerned when I first realized that he’d be replacing Trent this year, but I’d say it’s worked out rather well.”

“Yes, it has,” I say again, equally noncommittally.

“I guess it pays to have the designer of the company on board,” Tomas muses. “In fact, he’s even invited all the bloggers and designers out to his workshop this weekend to view the collection in person and start picking out pieces for their designs.”

I sit up straight in my chair, digging my toes into the carpet.

“He has?”

“Oh, yes,” Tomas says quickly. “That’s the other reason I was calling. Since Luke is having everyone out to his workshop, we wondered if Bailey Living had anything similar? A place where we could tour, do some social media, get people hashtagging the lottery?”

My mind races. “We ... we have a factory in Detroit.”

“Hmm,” Tomas says politely. “I suppose that won’t work quite as well as Luke’s workshop. Did you know he has an old grain warehouse on his property that he had converted into a custom workshop?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” I twirl the phone cord around my finger. God dammit. I like Luke — more than I want to admit, probably — but of course, here he is again, trying to get publicity for Loft & Barn at the expense of Bailey Living. We’re supposed to be equal sponsors in this, and now here he is, trying to undercut me. I wonder again if he’s just been kissing me to distract me.

I touch my lips absently as I decide: if he thinks I’m going to let him get away with that, he has another thought coming.

“Tomas, I would love to be able to come out to the workshop this weekend too. If I can’t bring them to our own facility, at least I can be on hand to answer questions and to help offer suggestions from our own collection.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Bree! I’ll just give Luke a call, but I’m sure it won’t be an issue.”

“Actually, why don’t you let me chat with him? I have to talk to him about a few other things anyway, so I’ll run it by him then.”

“Sure,” Tomas agrees amicably. “That’s one less thing on my plate. I won’t be able to attend this weekend, but I trust you two will have no trouble managing without me?”

“We’ll try our best,” I smile. “I’m looking forward to it already.”

I hang up the phone and then pace around my office.

Luke. Once again, it feels like he’s trying to push me out. Trying to claim a bigger role in the fundraiser. I tap my teeth as I stare out the window. The workshop tour isn’t a big deal on its own, but it’s not like Loft & Barn needs the additional publicity either. They’re not the ones with sales in the toilet. They’re not the ones facing layoffs, downsizing. Luke doesn’t have a Rich, telling him at every turn that he’s the wrong person for the job.

Well, Luke’s going to see what happens when you try to keep a girl down. If he thinks he’s getting his own little advertising platform on Saturday, he’s in for a big surprise.