I had actually planned on coming back in the morning to do more work on the garden area. But the extra hands now wouldn’t hurt, I reasoned. It only made sense. Or maybe the lusty, salivating part of my brain had stepped in and overpowered my frontal lobe. Either way, without hesitating, I said, “You think you can handle another work session with me in charge?”

He gave me a confident look. “I think I can manage one more.”

“Okay, great. I’ll meet you out there in thirty,” I said, that smile still stuck on my face.

He nodded, but before he could reply, his phone rang in his hand. “Excuse me,” he said as he walked toward his office, shutting the door behind him. Through the glass, I watched as he paced and talked, all business. Now that I knew how funny he could be, I liked it when he turned serious, focused, intense.

He looked up and caught me staring, waved a hand hi at me. I gave him a forced smile, waved back. Oh god, was he on to me? Somewhere along the path from meeting on the subway to today, things had become easy between us. He’d been so cool and aloof that day on the train, even more so during our TV interview. He’d quite literally announced that we were not each other’s types. And he’s dating someone, my brain hissed, back to being all logic and facts.

We were two strangers from different corners of the city, who were not meant to meet, much less enjoy each other’s company. But that had all changed, and somehow I’d missed the moment things shifted. And now it was too late: I was stuck liking him, and I couldn’t shake it. As I walked out through the door to the roof deck, I felt a shock of sadness. I felt silly for even feeling it, but I was going to miss seeing him when this was over.

I let out a sigh and shook out my shoulders again, as if that somehow could get rid of these feelings buzzing around inside me. Time to focus on work, Fran. I took another deep breath and got to it.

Jim and I had put planter boxes together two summers ago for his garden, and the muscle memory reignited the second I held the drill in my hand. Instead of letting my mind rehash all the reasons I should not be attracted to Hot Suit, and all the reasons he almost certainly was not into me, I concentrated on putting the small planks of wood together.

Almost exactly thirty minutes later, Hayes appeared. “Hey.” I turned to find him behind me, eyes expectant.