“We loved your proposal,” he said, crossing his legs. They were so long I marveled that he could even sit comfortably in these wobbly chairs. “If it’s cool with you, we’d like to just get the ball rolling.”

I pressed my lips together to suppress the grin that was working its way onto my face.

“With me,” I confirmed.

“Yes, as long as you’re interested and have the time.” He was studying me, his gaze direct and clear, but it revealed nothing. I thought about how low his voice had been on the phone, when he’d told me, “I do eat sweet things.” Maybe I’d imagined the playfulness. Had he even been flirting, or was I just projecting, looking for things that weren’t really there?

I pushed the thoughts aside. I was better off not letting my brain wander into fantasy territory with him and his deep voice, his fancy suits, and his office full of perfect wood floors. What was important is that he’d just offered me a job, something I desperately needed.

“I can definitely make it work,” I said, trying not to freak out. I’d seen their budget on the proposal he’d sent me. This one job could sustain me for months.

“But first, I have a few questions I like to ask everyone I work with, to help me better understand their needs,” I continued in my best professional voice.

Hayes nodded.

“So,” I said, trying not to focus on how handsome he looked sitting there in the sunlight, or how his demeanor was so serious that it almost didn’t fit with how beautiful his face was. And then I reminded myself that he’d announced to the world that I wasn’t his type. “How do you want to feel when you walk into your office?”

Hayes was thoughtful for a moment. “You know when you get into a nicely made bed with superclean sheets that are also incredibly worn and soft?”

I nodded. This was one of my favorite things in the world, and it was surprisingly sweet, coming from someone who usually seemed so buttoned-up and closed-off.

“I want that,” he continued. “Someplace that’s easy. Where I can be myself. Where I can relax and focus on work.”

His posture was erect, a freshly sharpened pencil. He rarely looked at ease in his own body, and yet it was clear he was craving comfort from this new space. Something about the revelation started my heart fluttering.

“And how do you want other people to feel when they walk in here?”

His forehead wrinkled as he looked at me. “Other people?”

“Yeah. You know, colleagues, clients, friends, girlfriends.”

I said the word so quickly it barely had two syllables. If his cheeks had been pink before, they were now definitely red, a summer tomato ready to burst.