The taxi stops, and the driver says nothing, so I hand over the cash and rush out of the car back onto the streets of Chicago.
“This tax attorney is doing pro bono work for us?” I mumble to myself staring up at the high-rise building.
Walking through the revolving door, I’m greeted by a security desk before I can access the elevators. Shit. I should message Glen again to say I’m going to be even later than I expected.
I approach the tall man who looks as annoyed as me for being here on a Friday night. “Hello, I need to head to” —I glance at the envelope— “Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm.”
He taps a few keys. “I think they’re closed already.” His face is void of any emotion.
“Can you tell me if there’s a…” my eyes glance to the folder again. “Mr. Bennett?” The last name causes my stomach to gurgle.
“Let me call up.” He presses some buttons on the phone, listens for a second and then hangs up. “No one is answering.”
I lean over the counter, splashing on my please eat out of my hand smile. “It’s Friday. You want to go home. I want to go home. I promised my boss that I’d get these on the desk of Mr. Bennett.” I cough, bile rising up my throat with the mention of the name. Victoria is really going to have to take care of this in the future. “Can I please just go up to their floor and see if their door is unlocked?”
He shakes his head, giving me a look I’m way too familiar with, silently asking if I’m crazy.
“What can I do?” I ask. “Money? A date?” I look at his left hand. “No. Are you a fan of winter sports?” I’ll totally pull Skylar into this. “My cousin is a Winter Classics skier and her fiancé—” A large palm lands in front of my face.
“Give me your name.” His fingers position on the keyboard.
“Chelsea… Chelsea Walsh.”
He types my name in, and I smile when he pulls a visitor badge out.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I take it from his hand and put it over my head.
“If no one is up there, they have a drop box beside their door. You can leave your package there.”
I thank him again and walk steadily to the elevators, dodging people desperate to start their weekend.
I end up riding the elevator by myself to the thirty-third floor. The elevator doors ding open and I file out, my head swiveling right and then left. Spotting the door with Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm, I head over to it to find a list of the names of all the associates and thankfully there’s Bennett second from the top.
Hold on Glen, I’m almost on my way.
My hand pulls on the frosted glass door and it must be my lucky day because it opens.
I step into the darkened reception area. Looking around, I find no one. Heading down a hallway, my eyes zero in on the names on the doors while peeking my head into vacant offices. Finally, after passing the conference room, I see the last name Bennett and peek my head inside to find it empty with the light on. Hopefully that means he’s in the bathroom or something.
I pull out my cell phone, seeing Glen has messaged me back, but instead of responding to his I shoot one off to my boss Hannah.
Me: Mr. Bennett isn’t here. Can I drop the envelope on his desk?
Hannah as usual, replies instantly.
Hannah: Sure. Just leave it somewhere he’ll see it first thing on Monday.
Me: Got it.
I drop my cell phone back into my purse and slowly walk across the room and place the envelope on the chair. As I straighten up, I notice a baseball sitting next to the keyboard like someone had been playing with it and just set it down.
My jaw drops and my gaze scatters across every surface, spinning around investigating each piece of art, photos, anything I can find to tell me this isn’t…
Then as though I hadn’t breathed the entire time I’ve been in this office, the smell of him hits my nostrils. The once familiar scent of the ocean breeze, his deodorant and fresh linen from his clothes. He never was a cologne guy.
Other than a picture of a dog on the table behind his desk, it’s filled with baseball memorabilia of the Cubs. A die-hard Cub’s fan certificate is framed and on display, so others know he didn’t jump on the bandwagon two years ago when they won the World Series. It’s proof that his family has borne the Cubbie fever for generations.
“Do you make it a habit of sneaking into people’s offices?” His voice is coy and flirtatious.
I squeeze my eyes shut then grip the edge of the desk before my knees give out. Shivers run up and down my spine.
Crazy train. All aboard!
“You can at least show your face,” he says, continuing his usual play. “I promise I don’t bite.”
“Unless I want you to.” I spin around, my knuckles white as they tighten on the edge of the desk.
Now it’s his jaw that slackens as he realizes his ex-wife is standing in the middle of his office.
Chapter Two
“Chelsea?” he asks, like he’s not sure it’s me. This isn’t a twenty-five-year reunion. It’s been five years. Five years since I’ve seen those deep chocolate eyes, the messy brown hair. He’s grown even more attractive over the years. More mature. Manlier, leaving that boy next door look behind with our divorce papers.
“Dean.” I’m able to cool my voice to make sure he doesn’t realize how affected I am by his presence.
His gaze flows up and down my body and I swallow past the lump in my throat and heat spreads like lava over my skin.
Thank God for those spin and yoga classes and grilled chicken and vegetables. Eat your heart out asshole. Check out what you missed out on.
“You look amazing.” One thing about Dean is that his eyes always tell his truth and it’s clear that his compliment is genuine.
“Wish I could say the same.” I cross my arms, finally finding my inner lioness.
He chuckles, rocking back on his heels and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. The sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, but his tie and vest are still in place along with a silver watch adorning his wrist. The sight of him in his gray suit stirs up the lady parts something fierce. Not that I’d ever let him know it.
“I was expecting a Victoria to do the drop-off.” He disregards my comment because that’s the problem with two people who know each other so well. He can tell my truth just as well as I can his, and he knows I’m full of shit.
“Sorry to disappoint. Paperwork is on your chair.”
I desperately want to flee this room, but he’s blocking the door and there’s no possible way I can get closer to him at this point. I might be able to roar like the lioness from afar, but I’ll crumble like an overzealous cub if either of us move.
“So, you’re working for Hannah Crowley?” He leans his shoulder on the doorframe, no intention of moving. Go figure, the man tormented me all through our relationship—just in a good way back then.
“Yes. I’m her marketing manager.”
“I like the idea of the foundation…giving girls empowerment, letting them know they have a voice.”
“Yes, it’s a wonderful thing she’s put together.” I pray I look more relaxed than I feel. My heart is pounding inside my chest like a college drumline.