Tempting the Billionaire by Jessica Lemmon Page B

he thought numbly. “Of course not,” he said, grateful he hadn’t blurted out the thought. “What do you have for me? I mean, to give me? I mean…to show me.” He pointed at the folder rather than attempt to rephrase.
    “MajicSweep notes from this afternoon,” Crickitt said, smiling, blessedly clueless to the lust-monster hiding beneath his desk.
    “Hey, okay. Great. Thank you,” he bumbled, his brain still off-line.
    “You’re welcome.”
    He sensed an ellipsis. He hoped she didn’t bring up her phone conversation. If she started sharing, some of his discombobulated thoughts might accidentally burble to the surface.
    “If you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing toward his office door. “I do have a few things to prepare before the meeting.”
    “Oh.” She glanced at the door, back at him. “Of course you do. Sorry to interrupt.” She waved her hands in a flustered manner as she walked away, making him feel like a complete jackass.
    Which he was.
    “Crickitt?” he called after her.
    She turned, raising her eyebrows. “Yes?”
    “You’re a lifesaver,” he said.
    She smiled. “Glad I could help.”
    “I mean it,” he mumbled, flitting his eyes away. She’d reached into the muck and pulled him out, fished him from the refuse floating in the dingy waters of his soul. It was no small feat, and she hadn’t even been trying. And there was no way to tell her that without sounding certifiable. So instead, he pointed at his scalp. “Good as new.”
    “Well, if it comes back, you know where to find me,” she said, then stepped out of his office.
    He shook his head and opened the folder on his desk. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself, “I do.”

Chapter 14
    T he afternoon meeting with “Team Townsend” went smoothly.
    And Shane had successfully pulled out of the cloud fogging his brain earlier. Not that Crickitt was ever a far-off thought. He’d seen her blurry figure rushing down the hall a couple of times. It’d taken some doing to focus on the projects littering his desk, but once he dove in, thoughts of his father receded into the distance, leaving him feeling more in control than he’d been earlier.
    “’Night,” Crickitt called as she passed by his office.
    Shane’s eyes went to the clock. Six already?
    “Wait!” He thrust out of his chair and walked over to her, trying to come up with a valid reason for what he was about to ask. “Are you available this evening?”
    She stopped in front of his office, eyes widening as her hand went to her chest. “I’m sorry?” she asked, trying to act natural while clutching the front of her shirt for dear life.
    He pretended not to notice, it was the least he could do, but the relentless vision of her cleavage snapped into his memory all the same. Sexual harassment suit, here we come.
    “I didn’t have a chance to go over Lori LaRouche’s account with you earlier.” He palmed his neck in embarrassment. First eavesdropping, then looking down her shirt. What was he, fifteen?
    “Oh.” Crickitt’s forehead bunched as she looked over at her darkened office. “I didn’t expect to work late. I sort of made plans.”
    With whom? Her ex? He clenched his jaw at the idea of her with that bozo.
    “I guess I can reschedule,” she said, reaching for her phone.
    “No, don’t.” Shane pushed her phone aside. He’d asked her to stay under the guise of work when what he really wanted was to be near her a little longer. Even for a useless fifteen-minute meeting. It was selfish. Dangerous. Like picking a fight with Temptation and betting on himself to lose.
    “No need to change your plans,” he said, sorry the second he said it. He tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to look nonchalant.
    “If you’re sure?” She held up her phone again. “It’s just drinks with a friend.”
    A male friend? Worry ate at him as he considered that upsetting possibility.
    “Thank you. I’m sure.” But he wasn’t sure. About anything. He shooed her off