Instead of gently teasing him about being a too-smart nerd, I reach forward and pluck the folder from his hands. He glares. “I have work to do. You’re the one who begged me to let you come along, so if you want to stay, make yourself busy on Instagram, or—”

“Take me to lunch, Andy.”

“Take yourself to lunch.”

“What if I promise not to call you Andy anymore?” I say, deciding to skip threats and go straight for bribery.

His eyes narrow. “A quick lunch. A sandwich at the deli, we bring it back here and eat it.”

“No deal. Del Frisco. We’ll take our time and have a drink.”

“It’s barely noon.”

“So have a mimosa. Also, you should give Shelley the afternoon off.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She has date night with her fiancé tonight. Tell her to go shopping for a new outfit. Hell, give her a bonus to buy the new outfit.”

“Shelley’s engaged?”

Semi-defeated, I let my chin drop against my chest. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.”

“I know the feeling,” he mutters. Then he stands and straightens his tie before pulling his suit jacket from the back of his chair and putting it on. The masculine gesture does something funny to my girl parts.

“So what’s it going to be?” I ask, trying to distract myself from how good he looks in pinstripes. “The deli and I call you Andy forever, or . . .”

“I don’t suppose I could exchange a steak lunch for you calling me Mr. Mulroney?”

“I’d rather die. But speaking of that, you should tell Shel to call you Andrew. She’s been with you for four years. Her first day of work was also her birthday, by the way.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “How are you best friends with my assistant already? Exactly how long did I leave you alone with her?”

“Long enough, Andrew. Long enough. Also, I bought her a PSL, so, girlfriends for life.”

“I don’t even want to know,” he mutters, coming around to the front of his desk before nodding toward the door. “Shall we?”

I give him a bright smile before flouncing out in front of him. I drop my now-empty Starbucks cup in the trash by his door as I open it and turn my smile on a startled Shelley.

“Good news!” I sing. “Andrew here insists that you take the afternoon off. Also, pro tip, there’s a Diane von Furstenberg sale at Saks and you’d look fabulous in a wrap dress.”

“I, um . . . what?” Shelley asks, looking nervously at Andrew.

He simply shakes his head and shrugs. “Best not to fight it, Ms. Jones. Georgiana is accustomed to getting what she wants.”

I narrow my eyes as he leads me toward the elevator. “Did you just call me spoiled?”

Andrew glances down at me with a speculative look. “You have a bad habit of misinterpreting everything I say about you for the worst. Why do you think that is?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say breezily. “Maybe because you hate me? And because I’ve never seen you smile. Like, ever.”

He inhales for patience and punches the elevator button with an impatient finger. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But perfectly ridiculous. Right?” I push when he doesn’t respond.

I hate that I need the answer so badly.

He looks me over, then surprises me by reaching out a hand, his thumb brushing gently over my earlobe, sending goosebumps every which way. “Your earrings . . . are they . . .?”

“Diamond cupcakes,” I say, trying for chipper, but the words come out breathless.

I had no idea how sensitive ears could be until this moment.

“Diamond cupcakes,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against the stud, before he drops his arm, shoves his hand in his pocket, and clears his throat.

The elevator door opens, and we step inside, a half dozen people shifting to make room for us inside the crowded car.

He stares straight ahead as the doors close, then says quietly, under his breath: “Yes.”

“Yes what?” I whisper.

He glances down at me, his expression unreadable. “Yes, perfectly ridiculous.”

I can’t help the smile.

Georgie

FRIDAY, LUNCHTIME

“See, isn’t this lovely?” I say as I flutter the cloth napkin to my lap and give a happy sigh.

Andrew rolls his eyes, mimicking my gesture with the napkin, except way more impatient. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You made time for it with Liv Dotson,” I say casually, studying the lunch menu.

“You already know she’s a client, although I’d appreciate it if you could go against your natural tendencies and keep that fact quiet.”

I sigh. “I just can’t believe she and Chris are getting divorced.”

We both look up as the server comes over to take our drink order.

“Champagne, please,” I say with a smile.

“Iced tea for me,” Andrew says. No smile.

“He’ll have a glass of the champagne as well. We’re celebrating,” I say with such friendly self-assuredness that the waitress writes it down and walks away without confirming with Andrew.

He’s giving me the half-amused, half-exasperated look that I’m getting to know quite well. “What are we celebrating?”

“My victory.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?”

I lean across the table with a triumphant smile. “You thought I wouldn’t last a day in your world. I’d say I’m flourishing.”

He leans forward as well. “In case you haven’t noticed, we quit being in my world the second you got me to leave the office for lunch and gave my assistant the rest of the day off.”

I smile. “Like I said. My victory.”

The waitress reappears with two champagne flutes, and I lift one toward Andrew. “Cheers?”

He rolls his eyes, but he clinks his glass against mine.

“Shelley says you have an older brother,” I say, setting my glass aside.

He shrugs. “You say that like you discovered some big secret.”

“News flash: everything with you seems like it’s one big secret.”

He frowns. “That’s not true.”