“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Observation, not criticism,” he says. “I like it.”
Silence falls again. The rain our only soundtrack.
My chin tilts upward. Shocking blue eyes hold mine. His lips part just a little, and I’m rising on tiptoe before I realize what I’m doing. His warm breath hits first, our mouths millimeters apart.
His lips brush mine. Not quite a kiss. But enough for my eyes to close for a beat.
“I don’t mix business and pleasure,” I whisper. My internal defenses react immediately to my slip. “I don’t sleep with people I share boardrooms with.”
I pull my hand from his, while my other one lands on his chest, stopping us before we’ve even begun.
“I’m not asking to sleep with you,” he says, voice soft, eyes open. His pupils dilate. “I’m asking if I can kiss you.”
I break eye contact first, consciously stepping back. “No, I don’t mix—”
“Business with pleasure,” he repeats. “But do you allow yourself any?”
I stiffen. He’s called out the part of me I hate most. The part with fingers clutching the steady areas of my life. The things I can control. None of them give me simple pleasure for the sake of it.
Ben moves away. All I feel is loss. Loss of his warmth. Loss of safety. Loss of a possibility. He walks around the desk and collects his coat.
“It would be a mistake,” I say.
He nods once. “Maybe.”
His fingers swipe his car key from the desktop. “Goodnight Antonia,” he says, then disappears into the rain.
I’m left standing in the middle of the now cold site office. My fleece offers no warmth. The wind blows. The rain continues to sing.
But none of it is louder than the beat of my heart.