“You’re right,” I blurt out. “This shouldn’t be happening.” I step backwards too, to show him that I agree.

  “I’m sorry,” he says softly again. He moves past me, toward the black Cadillac parked on the curb. I watch him knock on the window, and say something to his driver—likely the address to my apartment.

  Then Jason opens up the back door of the SUV, and I know that I’m supposed to walk toward it.

  I feel like I’m dreaming. Jason’s just turned my world upside down with that kiss, and now I’m supposed to get into a car and be carried across the city, away from him?

  My whole body is protesting. It feels all wrong. That kiss was too short—and there was so much passion behind it.

  My head is reeling as my wobbly legs carry me forward to the waiting car. I can’t look at Jason. He thinks that the kiss was the wrong thing to do, and so should I. If I look at him, he’ll read right through me, and see that I want him.

  I can’t have that.

  I’m almost at the car when he reaches for my hand. His grip is strong and urgent.

  “Harper, wait,” he says, pulling me toward him.

  Within seconds, I’m right next to him, relief pouring through me. There. My body relaxes—the tension releases. This is right. This is where I’m supposed to be.

  He’s holding my hand, and we’re standing close once again. There’s just six inches between us, and I look into his eyes, begging him to wrap his arms around me.

  “What, Jason?” I ask.

  Kiss me. Kiss me like you just did. Kiss me again.

  He’s looking down at me, confusion in his eyes. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I want to know. He opens his mouth to speak, and I hold my breath in anticipation of his words.

  “Harper…” he pauses. “Get home safe, okay?”

  Is that it?

  I’m struck silent. I feel numb.

  I nod, and he releases my hand.

  Like a zombie, I turn and walk to the car. I get in, and close the door behind me.

  It’s not until we’re twenty minutes into our drive, cruising through the city lights of Manhattan, that feeling returns. It starts as butterflies, which come to life in my lower abdomen, fluttering ceaselessly. I reach my hands up, and touch my lips softly.

  Jason Raynes kissed me.

  I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest, letting myself replay the kiss, over and over and over. As I do, the fluttering sensation in my stomach grows and grows. For once, I don’t overthink things. I just sit back and let myself enjoy the memory.

  Chapter 14

  Harper

  “Hi, Harper!” Charlie signs.

  He has a smudge of strawberry jam on his cheek. He’s in his pajamas—a matching blue set patterned with little rocket ships. He still hasn’t gotten a haircut, and his bed-head is truly out of control, like he just stepped off of a rocket himself.

  He is so freaking cute.

  Nonetheless, my heart drops.

  Don’t get me wrong—Charlie’s an amazing kid, and if I wasn’t so tentative about the “L” word, I’d probably have to admit that I love him—but he’s not the person I was hoping to see this morning.

  Where’s his dad?

  Jason was the one to open the door when I rang the bell yesterday. Did he send Charlie instead as an avoidance tactic?

  I’ve been psyching myself up for the whole car ride to Queens. We have to talk about that kiss. I don’t know what we’re going to say, exactly, but we can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen.

  Charlie’s looking up at me expectantly.

  “Good morning, Charlie,” I sign. “Looks like you’re having toast and jam for breakfast.”

  “How did you know? Come on! I’ll make you some!” he replies, before taking off at a full run down the hall.

  I can’t help but laugh. I might just have the best job in the universe.

  This thought makes me think of the kiss again. I can’t mess this opportunity up. Jason and I really need to talk.

  I close the door behind me, and start walking through the entryway, following the sound of Charlie’s pitter-pattering feet.

  Halfway to the kitchen, I spot Jason. He’s walking toward me, already on his phone. He’s fully dressed in a suit, and has his bag over one shoulder.

  “Yes, yeah, I got that part,” he says into the phone. “Okay…but send the contract over to our lawyers first and get the partners on it, not the legal assistants. They botched the Franklin Towers contract.”

  We’re about to pass each other.

  Jason’s eyes find mine as he talks and walks, and just as we’re passing, he holds the phone away from his ear. I can hear someone talking on the other end of the line.

  “Gotta run,” he whispers. “Are you good?”

  I’m not sure what that question means, but my response is automatic: I nod.

  He passes by me, and I hear his conversation resume and then fade as the distance between us grows. I keep walking toward the kitchen, replaying his question in my mind. Am I good? As in, ready to work for the day? Or as in feeling just fine and dandy about our kiss?

  Yes, I’ve gotten myself together enough to put in an honest day’s work, but no, I don’t feel good about how we’ve left things.

  There are words that need to be said. I want to know where I stand in this employee-employer relationship. Is he going to be more than just my boss? Are we friends, or was that a date last night? What the hell was that kiss all about?

  I want answers.

  Charlie, as promised, has made me up my very own toast with jam. Or, it might be more accurate to say pile of jam with a side of toast underneath it. It looks like he emptied out half of a jar of jam onto my toast.

  “For you!” Charlie signs, grinning.

  He’s lifting his own to his lips, and I see where the other half of the jar went.

  Not wanting him to get a stomach ache, I gently encourage him to put some of the jam to the side. We reach a happy compromise, and then enjoy our breakfasts together before making our way to the classroom.

  The day passes quickly, and in every spare minute I find myself gearing up for the moment when Jason arrives home from his day at the office.

  He didn’t have to send Charlie to open the door, and he didn’t have to be on the phone when I came into work this morning. He’s avoiding me—that much becomes clearer and clearer to me as the day goes on. It seems to be a pattern with him. When he doesn’t want to face something, he hides behind his work.

  Well, then, I’m going to have to be the one to initiate the conversation. That is if he stops jetting off to urgent meetings and talking on the phone long enough for me to get a word in edgewise.

  By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’ve come up with a game plan. It’s nothing complicated, but just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. I’m going to just start by bringing up the kiss, and then telling Jason how I feel.

  Sounds simple enough, right?

  The thing is, my feelings are all tangled up. I love this job, but I can’t deny the feelings that I’m developing for Jason. I’m hoping that if we just communicate honestly, things will become clearer. The conversation might be awkward, but at least I’ll know that I was honest.

  What if we realize that this position isn’t working for me? What if I have to leave this perfect job? Those questions linger in my mind, with no clear answers.

  I don’t have to figure it all out to begin with, I just have to go into it with the intention to be honest and say what’s in my heart.

  Charlie’s little friend from the neighborhood arrives at the house at five on the nose, and the two run off to the gym to shoot hoops, under the supervision of Charlie’s nanny. I’m off duty, but I can’t leave yet. Not without talking to Jason.

  I perch on an armchair in the entryway, flipping through a magazine as I wait. By six, I’m starting to worry that Jason might work late into the night, and I’ll be here for hours, growing more and more anxious. But then, the door opens.

  Jason walks in.

  Right when he sees me, his face fills with concern. “Is everything all right?” he asks.

  I jump off of the seat. “Yes, I was just waiting for you,” I say.

  “Where’s Charlie?” he asks, still tense.

  “He’s in the gym playing basketball with his friend from down the street. The nanny is with them.”

  “Oh.” He looks relieved. “Good. You looked upset, and I thought for a minute that something had happened.” He exhales sharply, and then his concerned expression fades, and it’s replaced by a smile. “I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you.”

  Whew! This might be easier than I thought! Maybe Jason recognizes the need for some good old-fashioned honest communication too.

  “Great,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “You have a minute?” he asks.

  “Of course.”

  “All right.” He drops his bag down to the floor next to a little table, and then he takes a seat on one of the armchairs across from the one that I was just sitting in.

  I follow his lead, and sit across from him.

  He doesn’t look nervous.

  In fact, he looks really excited to talk to me. I start to feel better. Maybe our kiss isn’t something to be upset about. Maybe Jason was right, and anything is possible. In his world of endless possibilities, maybe we can date and I can work for him. How amazing would that be?

  I feel some of my cloud of anxiety lifting.

  “I got some interesting news today,” Jason says. “And I want to run a few things by you.”

  Hm. Well, this isn’t the way I’d start a conversation about our kiss, but I wait to see where he’s going with it.

  Because I’m quiet, he continues. “We’ve always been a domestic company,” he says. “For the most part, anyways. Eighty percent of profits come from U.S. sales of materials plus domestic real-estate deals.”

  Okay—wait a minute. This is definitely not how I’d bring up the kiss.

  I narrow my eyes, suspicious now. Is he talking about work? Seriously?

  He’s still talking, his words rushed with excitement. “The other twenty percent comes from foreign deals, but that’s never been a priority for us—until this week. I just got word from one of the largest construction firms in Europe. Commercial building safety standards are under review, and a firm reached out to us; they want to be the first in Europe to build with Rayne or Shine Steel.”

  I shake my head. “Why are you telling me all of this, Jason?” I ask. I feel hurt, and it’s obvious by my tone.

  “Because,” he says, leaning forward. “I need to go to Ireland, and I want to take Charlie with me. It wouldn’t make sense for him to stop school for the trip, so that’s where you come in. I’d like you to come, too. What do you think? Want to spend some time in Dublin?”

  He’s smiling full on now, clearly pleased with his offer.

  “Dublin?” I repeat in disbelief. “You’re inviting me to Dublin. That’s what this is about.”

  “Right,” he says. “All expenses paid. You were saying that you like teaching children out in the real world, and it could be a great opportunity to work with Charlie on some history stuff. He could learn about his family tree!”

  Ireland. I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland. It’s my ancestral home, and I feel a deep connection to it even though I’ve never been. An all-expenses-paid trip would be amazing, and it would be easy and fun to come up with a curriculum to go with our travels.

  “Okay,” I say. A grin creeps to my lips at the thought of setting foot on Irish soil. “Okay! That sounds really fun. I’m in.”

  “Perfect.” Jason jumps up from his seat. “We’ll leave on Sunday evening. You can take tomorrow off, to prepare. I’ll have my assistant arrange things with you. I’ll go tell Charlie!”

  Without another word, he’s off, heading for the gym.

  I sink back into the armchair, just for a moment. That did not go as planned. Instead of finding clarity, I’m just adding more layers to the tangled mess of emotions that’s now living inside of me.

  At the same time, there’s no way I’m going to pass up this trip. I guess I can hold off on initiating the awkward conversation that I’m intent on having.

  It can wait until after we get back.

  I decided I’d be honest about my feelings, but I didn’t say when, did I?

  Chapter 15

  Harper

  Our hotel rooms are right next to each other.

  I heard the hotel attendant tell us the numbers: 45 and 47, and I wasn’t sure of how close they would be. Now that we’re standing in front of the two doors, I see that our two room doors are only a side-step from one another.

  Jason hands me a keycard, then uses his own to open his door.

  I do the same, on my side.

  I see Charlie dart past Jason’s open door. He’s eager to check out the room.

  “Well, he’s wide awake, isn’t he?” I say groggily.

  “Charlie’s a trooper when it comes to travel,” Jason informs me, in case I haven’t noticed.

  Charlie slept for nearly the entire flight from New York to Ireland. He seemed right at home in Jason’s private jet, just like when we took the helicopter.

  What would it be like to grow up around luxuries like this? I have no idea. If I’d gotten the chance to ride on a private jet as a kid, I’m betting I would have been wide-eyed and completely pumped full of adrenaline for the journey. Heck, that’s how I felt as a twenty-six-year-old adult. I was completely unable to sleep.

  Jason, like his son, caught some Z’s on the trip over—though not nearly as many as Charlie. Despite Jason’s limited sleep, he charged off of the plane and led us through the city to the hotel as if we hadn’t just hurtled across an entire ocean.

  Unlike the Rayneses, I am not accustomed to international travel. I stifle a yawn, and glance over at Jason, who is—surprise, surprise—looking at his phone.

  “What’s the plan?” I ask.

  Jason doesn’t answer me right away. He finishes reading something, and then looks up as if he barely heard my question. His mind is already on the meetings that lie ahead, I can tell.

  “Oh, the plan? Why don’t you drop off your things and come on over in about fifteen minutes? I have a lunch meeting that I need to start preparing for as soon as possible.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  I shuffle into my room, fighting the urge to gravitate toward the bed and surrender to the dark, peaceful cocoon. Instead, I deposit my suitcase in the middle of the floor and walk straight for the large bank of windows. The shades are drawn, but I yank them up and flood the room with light.

  The room is gorgeous and I take a moment—but just a moment—to look around. Then, like a woman on a mission, I search out the coffee station and start brewing up a pot. While it’s percolating, I strip down and head into the luxurious master bathroom.

  I swear, I will never get used to five-star hotels. The hotels I’m used to have little bathrooms, with modest showers and sinks that have cracks around the faucet. Now I’m seeing how the world’s wealthy take care of daily hygiene needs. The jet bath is big enough for two, easily, and the shower is roomy enough to host a small dance party.

  What in the world do people do in showers this big?

  My mind starts to wander, and soon I’m lost in a delicious daydream as I wash the jet lag off of my body. Ten minutes later, I’m dressed and sucking down a cup of strong coffee. As the fifteen-minute mark hits, I refill my cup and pour a second for Jason.

  When I step back into the hallway, I see that Jason’s left the door propped open. I knock anyways. After all, I don’t know if maybe he’s popped into the shower too, and I’d be totally embarrassed to walk in on him in just a towel.

  “Come on in, Harper!” Jason calls out.

  I walk in and see Charlie sitting on the floor, looking engrossed with a packet of papers. I recognize the top sheet: it’s a picture of a castle I made for him, with little fill-in-the-blank sections for naming the various structures.

  Jason walks out of the master bathroom, looking like he’s washed his face, shaved, and changed his shirt. He’s tightening a tie around his neck as he walks. I hold up the mug of coffee, and he grins.

  “Thanks,” he says, walking up to me.

  He reaches for it, and for a heart-stopping moment, I imagine that he’s going to lean in and peck me on the cheek after he takes the cup.

  He doesn’t, of course, and I have to blink a few times and take a deep breath as he walks away. The smell of his aftershave lingers.

  “All right,” Jason says, after sipping the coffee. “I’m going to get going. What do you think about a rendezvous at the zoo this afternoon? My lunch meeting should be over by three.”

  Rather than wait for an answer, he gulps down more of the coffee while striding toward the door, talking between sips. “Harper, I left some euros on the dresser for entry fees, lunch, and whatever else you deem appropriate.”

  I have no choice but to follow him. At the door, he steps out and then takes one last sip of coffee. He looks around, as if confused about what to do with the cup, still half full, in his hands.

  I reach out, and he hands it to me.

  “Thanks,” he says.

  “The zoo sounds good. We’ll meet you at the entrance at three. I hope your lunch meeting goes well.”

  At times, I’ve felt that Jason uses his work to avoid me. But right now, I see that his preoccupation with the success of his company is genuine. He clearly really wants this meeting to go well, and it seems that the stakes are high. His shoulders look tense, and he’s acting stressed. I wish I could help him relax more, but I don’t know what else to say. He flashes me a tense smile and thanks me again.

  I watch him go, and then turn on my heel and return to Charlie. I sit down on the floor, and look over what he’s done so far.