“Was this your plan all along?” I scold him without any real force. “To get me out on a date with you in the middle of the workday?”

His innocent shrug is spoiled by the fact that he hasn’t stopped smiling. “Maybe.”

I pause for a long moment, pretending to think hard. “Well . . . I guess I can forgive you.”

Noah holds up a finger in protest. “Hey, you’re going off script. You’re supposed to be mad at me, and then I have to soften you up—”

“In front of the whole restaurant?”

His grin darkens into absolute sin. “Oh, Snowflake, you’ve got a dirty mind. All I had planned was a kiss. But I like the way you think, and I seem to remember you not being shy about fooling around in restaurants.”

“This is why I like you better when you don’t talk,” I retort with a smile. Especially when it’s because your mouth is otherwise occupied.

“So, what’s the verdict on my brilliant plan?”

“Hmm . . .” I pretend to ponder again. “I’ll take that kiss now. More later.”

“At the office?” he asks immediately.

Actually, that doesn’t sound so—

Wait, no, what am I thinking? He’s dragging me down a rabbit hole. We already crossed that line, and as exhilarating as it was, I don’t want to get caught in some scandal.

I give him a firm shake of my head. “At home. Where we can be as loud and take as long as we want.”

He heaves a purposely melodramatic sigh. “But that’s such a long wait, and you’re the one who brought up sex in the first place.” Before I can tease him for being a perpetual horndog, he adds, “I guess I can be good for a little longer, though. You’re worth waiting for.”

My cheeks turn pink even before he leans across the table and his lips brush against mine. I’m not sure how to respond. Sexy flirting is one thing, but that comment was almost too sweet. Too real.

Our lunch chooses that moment to arrive. We dig into the delicious sushi and let ourselves talk about anything but business. All too soon, we’ll have to get back to the office, but for now, we savor each other’s company. A precious hour alone together, away from the hustle and stress.

• • •

At least once a month, Camryn and I try to set aside some girl time to pamper ourselves and catch up with each other. Today is that most sacred of days. We’ve booked a luxury pedicure at our favorite salon. We sit side by side in adjacent spa chairs, our long-suffering feet freed from high heels and soaking in warm, lavender-scented whirlpool baths. Ahh . . .

“So, how’ve you been lately?” Camryn asks me as the attendant massages exfoliating salt scrub into her soles. “Do anything cool without me?”

“Actually, yeah.” My tone slips into a soft fondness. “Noah and I spent all of last weekend together. On Saturday we had brunch, went shopping at the farmer’s market—he bought me the peonies I always get, without even needing to ask—and then we went to the MOMA’s special Impressionist exhibit. On Sunday, we saw P.B. and Jay—”

“That new indie rom-com?” she asks, interrupting.

“Yeah. And then we ate dinner out and went dancing.”

Feigning shock, Camryn presses her free hand over her heart. “Hang on. I need a minute to process this. Noah Tate, buying flowers and watching chick flicks? And Olivia Cane—”

“But you have no problem imagining Noah at an art museum?”

“At least the paintings probably had naked ladies in them. But Noah Tate, acting so cute and mushy? And Olivia Cane, taking an entire weekend off? Unplanned? For fun? I think I might have a heart attack.”

I snort despite myself. “Oh, shut up. I’m not that boring.”

“Yes, you are. Tell me something—you sneakily answered work e-mails while he was in the bathroom, didn’t you?”

“For your information, I had my phone turned off the whole time we were out.”

Camryn’s mouth drops open and she twists to face me fully, her shock now genuine. “Holy shit. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

I shrug sheepishly. “Noah convinced me that the office would survive two measly days without me. And I actually . . . believed him.”

Camryn says nothing. She just smirks at me like she knows something I don’t. My stomach stirs with nervous flutters.

“What?” I finally ask. I know full well I’m taking her bait, but I don’t care enough to let her keep up her smug staring.

“Oh, nothing,” she says in a singsong voice, her tone soaked with false innocence. “I guess he must be pretty convincing, is all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I huff. “It’s just because I’ve been more confident about work lately. I feel like Tate & Cane is really starting to get back on track.”

“Sure, but business isn’t the only thing that’s going well. You practically glow when you talk about Noah. And it seems like his free-and-easy ways have rubbed off on you.”

The double entendre isn’t lost on me but I ignore it, determined to be the more mature woman in the room. “It was just one weekend off. Big deal.”

“Yeah, you guys are definitely in your honeymoon phase,” she concludes, ignoring me right back. She heaves a sigh of satisfaction that definitely didn’t need to be so theatrical. “I had my doubts at first, but it looks like the manwhore can step up and be romantic when he sees something he really wants.”