At the landing, Mulligan swung to the right and continued along the corridor. His office door stood at the end, and her stomach roiled with anticipation and dread. I have no reason to be nervous. He cannot force me to do anything.

Mulligan paused at the closed office door. “If you need me, I won’t be far.”

She nodded, touched at his concern. “I’ll be fine.” Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and went inside.

Clay faced her, perfectly attired in his customary black suit. And, despite being prepared, she lost her breath at the sight of him. She couldn’t read his expression but he didn’t appear angry. His hands were shoved in his trouser pockets, his huge shoulders relaxed. A calm mountain in the middle of the room.

They stared at one another and seconds stretched as neither moved nor spoke. He was every bit as imposing and striking as she recalled, the resulting butterflies in her stomach every bit as intense. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed seeing him and talking to him until now. A shame her interest hadn’t been returned.

The sound of the door closing behind her jolted her into action. She stepped forward, ready to get this over with. “If you’re here to talk me into leaving, you are wasting your time.”

“I’m here to apologize.”

So Mulligan hadn’t been wrong. Still, she wasn’t certain she wished to hear it. “Apology accepted. Good evening.” With a nod, she spun and lunged for the knob, ready to escape.

“Wait.”

The urgency in his voice gave her pause. She slowly turned. “Why?”

“I need you to listen.” He raised his hands. “Please, Florence.”

She leaned against the door, comforted by the solid wood behind her. “Five minutes, Clay.”

“Fair enough. I’m sorry for what I said. All of it, actually. I didn’t mean those things and you deserved better.”

“Yes, I did. So why did you say it, then?”

“I was caught off guard. I’m not used to . . .” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Not used to someone like you.”

Someone like you. The words acted like the strike to a match. Fury burned her skin. They were back to this, the figurative box in which he kept her. “Not used to someone so sheltered or spoiled? Impulsive? Irresponsible? Or maybe disappointing? You may pick one. Or even two. Not to worry, I’ve heard them all at some point or another.”

A crease formed between his brows. “I don’t believe you’re any of those things.”

“You must. You told me to leave and never come back before I’d even dressed.”

“I was unnerved, Florence. And that was my problem, not yours. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

“Unnerved? Why?”

“Sex has always been just sex, in my experience. But you were different. Better. I hadn’t expected that.”