the ocean before a storm.
“Look. Maybe we should just concentrate on getting this project sorted and we can both get on with our lives,” she said.
He still didn’t say anything and she shook her head slightly. She didn’t get why he was looking so gobsmacked. Did he really think people hadn’t noticed he was different?
“I’ll take this stuff home and draw up an outline for my sections. If you do the same, we can meet again tomorrow after work and finalize our brief before diving in. How does that sound?”
His frown was gone now, his expression impenetrable. “Whatever suits.”
“Good. Same time tomorrow?”
“That works for me.”
He stood and scooped up his things.
“Hang on, I think you’ve got my phone...” she said, frowning.
He flipped up the protective cover and checked. “You’re right, sorry,” he said, his tone clipped as they swapped handsets.
She was about to tell him that it was an easy enough mistake since they all had the same company-issued handsets and covers, but before she could say another word he was gone. She stared at the empty doorway. She felt uncomfortable about what had just happened. She should have bitten her tongue and swallowed her impulsive words, for the sake of the project if nothing else. If she hadn’t been feeling so dumb after the highlighter incident, maybe she would have, but she’d hated the thought of him being amused at her expense. Sitting there laughing at her up his sleeve while she’d been doing her best to make this project fly.
She made a growling noise in her throat.
Why did she always wind up second-guessing herself where Zach was concerned? No one else in her world made her feel so self-conscious and uneasy.
She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t like it. The sooner this project was over, the better.
CHAPTER FOUR
A PPARENTLY , HE WAS an elitist snob, born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
How ’bout that.
Zach threw another folder into his briefcase, trying to work out if he was flattered by Audrey’s insanely inaccurate take on who he was or if he was, in fact, supremely pissed at being dismissed as a trust-fund playboy dabbling in a career for fun.
He’d grown up with nothing, in both material and spiritual senses. Any money that came into the household had gone straight up his mother’s arm, and the only reason he was still alive today was because of the people in his mother’s life—various hangers-on and fellow addicts and the few persistent, stubborn family members who had persevered in maintaining contact with his mother over the years, despite her many, many abuses of their trust.
His school uniforms had been secondhand; his textbooks, too. He worked after school and earned himself scholarships and held down two part-time jobs to support himself while at university. No one had handed him anything, ever.
Yet, according to Audrey, he came across as a snotty-nosed rich kid. Someone who’d had every good thing in life gifted to him on a silver platter.
How...bizarre.
It had never occurred to him that anyone might take him for anything other than what he was—a poor kid who’d made good. He liked nice things, but he hadn’t bought his car or his watch or his suit because he wanted other people to look at him and think he was something he wasn’t. He’d bought them because he could. Because he’d admired and wanted them, and he’d had more than enough of missing out in his life. Seeing something beautiful and fine and knowing he could make it his own was a power he would never, ever take for granted and never, ever tire of exercising.
Screw it. Who cares what she thinks? Let her believe what she wants to believe.
An excellent notion, except for one small problem: he did care what Audrey thought of him. And not only because he wanted to get her naked.
She was smart. She was determined. She was funny. There was something about her, a tilt to her chin or a light in her eye or... something that spoke to him.
“Look. Maybe we should just concentrate on getting this project sorted and we can both get on with our lives,” she said.
He still didn’t say anything and she shook her head slightly. She didn’t get why he was looking so gobsmacked. Did he really think people hadn’t noticed he was different?
“I’ll take this stuff home and draw up an outline for my sections. If you do the same, we can meet again tomorrow after work and finalize our brief before diving in. How does that sound?”
His frown was gone now, his expression impenetrable. “Whatever suits.”
“Good. Same time tomorrow?”
“That works for me.”
He stood and scooped up his things.
“Hang on, I think you’ve got my phone...” she said, frowning.
He flipped up the protective cover and checked. “You’re right, sorry,” he said, his tone clipped as they swapped handsets.
She was about to tell him that it was an easy enough mistake since they all had the same company-issued handsets and covers, but before she could say another word he was gone. She stared at the empty doorway. She felt uncomfortable about what had just happened. She should have bitten her tongue and swallowed her impulsive words, for the sake of the project if nothing else. If she hadn’t been feeling so dumb after the highlighter incident, maybe she would have, but she’d hated the thought of him being amused at her expense. Sitting there laughing at her up his sleeve while she’d been doing her best to make this project fly.
She made a growling noise in her throat.
Why did she always wind up second-guessing herself where Zach was concerned? No one else in her world made her feel so self-conscious and uneasy.
She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t like it. The sooner this project was over, the better.
CHAPTER FOUR
A PPARENTLY , HE WAS an elitist snob, born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
How ’bout that.
Zach threw another folder into his briefcase, trying to work out if he was flattered by Audrey’s insanely inaccurate take on who he was or if he was, in fact, supremely pissed at being dismissed as a trust-fund playboy dabbling in a career for fun.
He’d grown up with nothing, in both material and spiritual senses. Any money that came into the household had gone straight up his mother’s arm, and the only reason he was still alive today was because of the people in his mother’s life—various hangers-on and fellow addicts and the few persistent, stubborn family members who had persevered in maintaining contact with his mother over the years, despite her many, many abuses of their trust.
His school uniforms had been secondhand; his textbooks, too. He worked after school and earned himself scholarships and held down two part-time jobs to support himself while at university. No one had handed him anything, ever.
Yet, according to Audrey, he came across as a snotty-nosed rich kid. Someone who’d had every good thing in life gifted to him on a silver platter.
How...bizarre.
It had never occurred to him that anyone might take him for anything other than what he was—a poor kid who’d made good. He liked nice things, but he hadn’t bought his car or his watch or his suit because he wanted other people to look at him and think he was something he wasn’t. He’d bought them because he could. Because he’d admired and wanted them, and he’d had more than enough of missing out in his life. Seeing something beautiful and fine and knowing he could make it his own was a power he would never, ever take for granted and never, ever tire of exercising.
Screw it. Who cares what she thinks? Let her believe what she wants to believe.
An excellent notion, except for one small problem: he did care what Audrey thought of him. And not only because he wanted to get her naked.
She was smart. She was determined. She was funny. There was something about her, a tilt to her chin or a light in her eye or... something that spoke to him.
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