Also, Michael was just as interesting as the data, and he made her laugh. He smelled good and felt good and tasted good and . . . She hugged herself as her feet danced over the carpet. This was almost too much perfectness. Exciting work during the day. Exciting Michael at night. She wanted this every day, forever.

She saved her work, powered down her computer, and gathered up her things. Walking down the hallway while people were still in the office was something she did rarely, but her coworkers didn’t usually think much about it. Tonight, however, the unusual attention she got as she passed by confused her. The top econometricians in their offices paused in the middle of writing formulas on their whiteboards. The younger analysts in their cubicles gave her startled looks.

As she strode past Philip’s office, he looked up from the papers on his desk and did a double take. She waved at him and went to the elevator banks. Just as the doors began to close, Philip jumped inside.

“You’re heading out early today,” he said.

In the process of adjusting her glasses, she realized her hair was down. This was why everyone was acting so funny. She rolled her eyes. It was just hair. “Dinner plans.”

Philip’s light eyes tracked over her in a thorough sweep. “Meeting someone?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yes.”

“Took my advice, huh?” he said with his usual smirk.

“I did, actually. Thanks.”

He blinked, and his eyebrows climbed. “You’re surprising, Stella, and you look good with your hair down.”

The appraising nature of his gaze made her thoroughly uncomfortable, and she itched to refasten her top two buttons. “Thanks.”

“So who is he? Do I know him? Is it serious?”

She tapped her fingers on her thighs. “I don’t think you know him. I hope it’s serious. It’s serious to me.”

“Don’t ask him to marry you too soon, okay? That scares the crap out of guys.”

She scowled at him.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Just go slow. That’s what I meant to say.”

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, he pressed a hand to the door sensor to keep it open. “Ladies first.”

She marched out, hoping a fast gait would help her leave him behind, but he speed-walked to her side.

“Where are you two going?”

“A Thai place.” She spotted her car in the parking lot and wished she could teleport herself directly inside. She was never wearing her hair down at work again.

“So you like spicy food?”

“I do. I’ll tell you if this place is any good, and you can take Heidi there.”

“Not dating Heidi anymore. She really is too young for me. No common ground. She said I have to work on how I communicate with people. Apparently, I come across condescending. It’s frustrating. I can’t help it if I know things.” He coughed. “Forget that last part.”

That gave her pause. She knew what it was like to have trouble communicating. Did that mean Heidi had broken things off? Underneath his obnoxious exterior, was Philip sad? Was he capable of being sad? “I see.”

“You and I have common ground.” By the look in his eyes, he meant it. He was actually interested in her now.

Stella stopped at her car. “We do.”

Her mother thought they were perfect for one another. If he hadn’t inspired her toward out-of-the-box thinking with his asshole advice, she might actually be interested back. At the very least, she might have let him be her fourth disastrous sexual encounter.

Not any longer. The only one she wanted now was Michael.

“I have to go, or I’ll be late.”

He stepped back. “Have a good night, Stella. Not too good, though. See you tomorrow.”

After she got inside her car and buckled up, she caught sight of him getting into his own vehicle. A brand-new, bright red Lamborghini. Not her style at all. She would have hated it on sight if it weren’t for the fact that Michael liked them.

Sighing, she headed to meet him. The drive was quick, and it wasn’t long before she walked into the humid interior of the restaurant. He was waiting for her at a table for two by the window, looking edible himself in black slacks, a striped button-down, and a black silk vest that fit his trim waist to perfection.

His eyes twinkled, and he tapped his lips with an index finger as he watched her walk between rows of tables toward him. When she reached the table, he stood up and wrapped her in a tight embrace, pressing his lips against her neck as he wove his fingers into her loose locks. “All this hair. My Stella looks gorgeous tonight.”

She breathed him in and molded herself against him. A sense of rightness locked into place, and her resolve hardened. She was going to seduce him. If she could just figure out how. “My rubber band broke when I took it out earlier. Now everyone at work thinks I’ve taken up stripping.”

His shoulders shook as he laughed.

The waiter approached, and they reluctantly broke apart to sit.

“You could, you know. You’ve got the body,” he said with a teasing grin.

“With my coordination, I’d concuss myself on the pole.”

He stayed wisely silent on the topic of her coordination.

“Is this another Michael original?” she asked, indicating his vest, which she loved to distraction.

“Of course. By the look in your eyes, you want to touch it. My work is complete.”

That was when she noticed she was reaching across the table toward him. She pulled her hands back and sat on them, adjusting her glasses with a wrinkle of her nose.

“You can look at it more closely later.” He held a palm out on the table and cocked his head to the side, waiting, and she realized he wanted to hold her hand.

How was she supposed to seduce him when he seduced her so well?

She withdrew her hand from underneath herself and settled it in his. He closed his fingers around hers and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

“H-how was your day?” As the words left her mouth, she recognized it was the first time she’d asked him that. It wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to know. Was it too personal? Could she ask him things like that?

His lips twisted with something between a smile and a grimace. “It’s prom season. Not my favorite time of year.”

“Lots of alterations?”

“And squealing teenaged girls.”

“They must all crush on you instantly.” That had to get pretty exhausting.

“I have my mom do most of those fittings, so it’s not so bad. But I am going cross-eyed from all the spaghetti-strapped gowns. Your picture was the highlight of my day.”

That sounded terrible. Her picture hadn’t even been that good. “Do you wish you could work with more menswear, then?”

The thought that he wasn’t doing what he loved felt like a sharp bur in her side. She would need therapy if she had to do work she detested all day, every day, every week.

He shrugged, but his expression was thoughtful. “I prefer the creative side of the work, making something new. I don’t mind the actual constructing and altering, but it’s not very challenging.”

“Have you thought of starting your own line?” She covered her mouth as the idea occurred to her. “You could go on one of those reality TV fashion contests. You would win.”

He smiled down at their joined hands, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Three years ago, I got selected for a spot on one of those. I think they liked my face better than my portfolio, but whatever. An opportunity is an opportunity. Stuff happened, though, and my mom got sick. I had to turn it down.”

The blood drained from Stella’s face as her chest broke open. Of course, he would do that for his mom.

He glanced up at her, and his expression went tender. “Don’t look so sad. She’s doing really well lately.”

“It’s . . . cancer?” She vaguely recalled hearing his sisters mention chemo while they were fighting, but she’d been so overwhelmed she hadn’t fully absorbed the information. How had that gotten past her? What kind of person was she?

“Stage four, incurable, inoperable, lung cancer. No, she’s never smoked. She just has bad luck. The latest treatments are working for her, though. Things have been good,” he said with an encouraging smile.

She squeezed his hand tight as she gazed at him. Did he have any idea how indescribably wonderful he was?

The waiter arrived, and Michael asked her, “Want me to order?” When she nodded, he rattled off the names of a few dishes without looking at the menu.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Fine.”

He grinned and pinched her chin. “Details, Stella.”

“Oh. Well . . . I’ve encountered an interesting puzzle with my work. There is this fascinating phenomenon I can’t expl—why are you looking at me like that?”

His head was tilted to the side, his smile particularly fond. “You are adorably sexy when you talk about your work.”

“Those things don’t go together.”

He laughed. “They do with you. Continue, puzzle fascinating phenomenon.”

“I’ll tell you when I figure it out. Which I will. Let’s see here. What else happened? Oh, my boss is pressuring me to hire an intern. And I took my first selfie today.” She left out everything relating to Philip. There was no need to mention that uncomfortable encounter.

“Does your boss think you’re working too much?”

She shrugged. “Who doesn’t think that?”

“It’s not too much if you love it. Like you do.”

“Precisely. Please tell my mother that.”

“If I see her, I will,” he said. But judging from the tone of his voice, he thought the likelihood of his seeing her mother was low.