He jumped when the old-fashioned clock on a shelf chimed, a small door opening in the dial and a cuckoo bird popping out once, twice, five times. Somebody—and he could guess who—had put a tiny pink baseball cap on its head. He couldn’t help smiling.
“You have to go,” she said quietly.
“I don’t know when it’ll wind up, and you need an early night, so—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the shoot.” Her fingers had drifted to his body again, plucking at his clothing, but she realized what she was doing and curled her hand into a fist.
He kissed her once more, very lightly, then went to the outside door in a swift movement, closing it quietly behind him as he stepped out into the rain.
God.
From pop songs to poems to personal experience, everyone knew how fun and dizzying and delightful it was to fall into infatuation.
Sylvie hadn’t known how disorientating and terrifying it could be to fall in love.
When just out of reach, teasingly stretching out to touch her hands, tugging her forward, was the prospect of something so unbelievably wonderful.
She ran her hand over her eyes, walked to the internal door, and pulled it open.
And almost ran straight into Penny, who was standing in the hallway, so close they could have bumped noses.
Her intern’s large eyes widened farther, but her usual vague smile made a rapid reappearance. She held up a stack of envelopes. “Mail. And just to let you know, I finished the bread rolls early and saw we were out of caramel truffles, so I made more.”
Good grief. She’d done the task she’d been assigned and showed initiative.
Light was breaking through the clouds at last.
“I couldn’t find the toffee crumbles, so I used the pretty crystals by the sink instead,” Penny added, looking very pleased with her own ingenuity.
Sylvie paused. “The crystals in the jar?”
The younger woman nodded happily.
“Um. How many truffles did you make?”
Penny gave an excited little hop. “Five dozen.”
Well, it could have been worse.
At least she’d only made sixty units of their exciting new variety of truffle.
Dark chocolate and crystallized oven cleaner.
Thank God Jay was out all day at meetings.
Before she could issue a tactful reminder that all edible ingredients and industrial cleaning products were meticulously labeled, Penny continued, “There’s another reporter out front. Asking the staff questions about the royal wedding cake. And Mabel’s out on her break.”
Joy upon joy.
“And your friend left his coat.”
At Penny’s blithe observation, Sylvie turned and saw Dominic’s beautiful wool coat hung over her chair. Damn. It was already cold outside, and it would be freezing by the time he left the restaurant tonight.
“If you need to take it to him,” Penny offered, “I’ll get rid of the reporter.”
“Oh, I don’t think . . .” Before the polite refusal was out, Sylvie reconsidered. It was impossible to either fluster or coerce any information out of Penny. She didn’t appear to retain any in the first place. Multiple people had just given up and noped out of a conversation with the intern, through the sheer frustration of talking to a wall of smiling indifference. “That would be great. Please do.”
As Penny floated over to her desk to drop the stack of mail into appropriate sorting boxes, Sylvie hastily tapped her phone to vanish the photo of Johnny and Aggressive Blonde. She grabbed Dominic’s coat and rushed out the side door into the alleyway.
He’d obviously hit rush-hour traffic, because he was only just heading into De Vere’s when she emerged onto the street.
In a small break between cars, Sylvie dashed across the street, her boots sending puddles splashing up her legs.
“Dominic!”
He turned with a frown, the wind blowing his hair back from his face, but his expression cleared as he saw the coat in her hand. “Thank—”
Looking at the sharply hewn, arrogant features, she couldn’t help herself. Her heart flooding with warmth, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him again.
He stiffened for the most infinitesimal of moments—he obviously liked it when she kissed and cuddled him, but they were right outside their workplaces on a public street, and he was definitely never going to be a PDA sort of bloke to this extent—then his body relaxed. His mouth moved warmly over hers, his hand coming up to smooth her hair away from her cheek.
They drew back from each other. Rain was falling down his cheeks, over his shoulders. She was barely aware of the wetness of her own hair and clothing.
“Have a good dinner,” she murmured, and was rewarded with a flash of that rare, genuine smile before he took his coat, brushed his lips between her brows, and went inside.
Sylvie touched her lips and bit down lightly on her thumb as she swung around, smiling, to cross back to her own territory.
The rain was starting to fall in sheets, sending mist and spray rising from the sodden pavement, throwing the entire scene into a soft, unfocused gray.
But there was nothing to impede her vision as she looked over the roof of a newly arrived taxi, into Jay’s eyes as he stood, one hand tightly gripping the open door.
Clearly, he’d had an equally good view of her. And Dominic.
She wasn’t moving. Couldn’t move. She just stood there, getting more and more soaked, her chest rising more quickly with every breath.
His face.
Oh God, his face.
Suddenly, she knew exactly, finally, what Jay had wanted to talk to her about.
And that wobbling foundation stone in her life crumbled into dust.
Chapter Seventeen
They stood in their office, the desks between them. They were both holding on to the backs of their chairs, as if they didn’t know what to do with their hands.
As if they needed the support.
The rain was hitting the windows hard, and the clock was ticking, and everything felt both unnaturally loud and painfully silent.
She couldn’t look away from him.
He couldn’t seem to bear to look at her.
When he spoke at last, it was with his head lowered, his hair falling forward. “You and De Vere.” There was nothing in his tone. Literally nothing. Her stomach did a horrible, sickening little flip. “You’re—with De Vere.”
“Yes.” Sylvie spoke very quietly, but with no hesitation. Even as she felt that every word would stab into Jay with a weapon she’d never imagined she possessed, she wouldn’t deny Dominic. Couldn’t. “I’m seeing Dominic.”
Inadequate. Barely touching the surface. And already more than he wanted to hear.
“How long?” Jay asked, still expressionless. Under the stubble edging his sculpted jaw, a muscle jumped.
“Not long.”
He finally looked up, and the moment she saw his eyes again, her heart hurt like hell. “I, um—I didn’t realize. I wasn’t expecting . . .” He took a visibly unsteady breath.
“Neither was I,” she said softly. She had to cross her arms tightly to stop herself moving forward, reaching out for him.
She’d always held him when he was hurt.
And to do that, right now, would obviously gut him.
He seemed to be bracing himself. “Is it serious?” He forced those words out and raised a hand before she could answer. “Don’t answer that.” That frozen, hateful emptiness was leaving his voice. It cracked. Her eyes burnt. “I know you.” His mouth twisted. “I know you.”