I thought about it for a second. “Just food, right? It’s not a date.”

“God, no—not unless you want to buy me dinner.”

I chuckled. “No. Okay. Brooklyn Girl at eight thirty.”

“Boom,” he said, standing.

“What was that?”

“I don’t have to eat alone. Pardon me while I celebrate.”

“Get out of here,” I said, waving him away.

Sawyer cleared his throat, and then I noticed the door hadn’t closed when it should have. I glanced up to see Thomas standing in the doorway. His short hair was still damp from his post-workout shower.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.

“Long enough.”

I barely acknowledged his taunt. “You really should stop hovering in my doorway. It’s creepy.”

He sighed, shutting the door behind him before approaching my desk. He sat, waiting patiently, while I looked over my emails.

“Liis.”

“What?” I said from behind the monitor.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking my email, also known as work. You should try it.”

“You used to call me sir.”

“You used to make me.” An awkward long silence prompted me to lean over and meet his eyes. “Don’t make me explain.”

“Explain what?” he asked, genuinely intrigued.

I looked away, annoyed, and then gave in. “It’s just dinner.”

“At Brooklyn Girl.”

“So?”

“It’s my favorite restaurant. He knows that.”

“Jesus, Thomas. This is not a pissing match.”

He considered that for a moment. “Maybe not to you.”

I shook my head in frustration. “What does that even mean?”

“Do you remember the night we met?”

Every bit of my sass and nerve melted away, and I instantly felt the same way I had the first few seconds after he climaxed inside me. The awkwardness put me in my place faster than intimidation ever could.

“What about it?” I asked, chewing on my thumbnail.

He hesitated. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Which part?”

He stared into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity, planning what he would say next. “That you’re emotionally unavailable.”

He hadn’t just taken me off guard. All my guards were taken off faster than any other offed guards in the history of offed guards.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” I said. Well done, Liis!

“Does that go for everyone or just me?” he asked.

“Nor that.”

“I’ve just been…” His expression changed from casually flirty to curious and flirty. “Who’s the SWAT guy you left behind in Chicago?”

I glanced behind me as if someone who might be hanging on the seventh-floor window could hear. “I’m at work, Thomas. Why the hell are we talking about this now?”

“We can talk about it over dinner if you’d like.”

“I have plans,” I said.

The skin around his eyes tightened. “A date?”

“No.”

“If it’s not a date, then Sawyer won’t care.”