An email notification slid onto the corner of her computer screen. Normally, she would have checked it later, but she could have sworn the name that popped up had said…

A few quick clicks had her stomach sinking like a stone surrounded by concrete.

Emmett Webster.

The very man who had claimed she’d stolen his design to get ahead. The man who wooed her and promised no one would find out about the office fling, then advertised it after knowing their sexist pig of a boss would take Emmett’s word over hers.

The loss of the job had been upsetting to say the least, but the loss of her hard work and reputation, having to rebuild completely, had been devastating.

And now, two years later, out of the blue, he was emailing her?

Don’t open it.

But she would. Of course she would.

“Hey Lily of the Valley!” the email started. Lily because of her name, Valley because of her cleavage. Stupidest nickname ever, and he thought he was being just so clever. He did it to irritate her. Mission accomplished. Everything about him irritated her. She steeled herself and read the rest.

Hey Lily of the Valley!

I heard through the grapevine, namely Reginald London who I now work for, that you were over at Cameron Designs. You’re probably stoked to be in a small office with friends without the pressure you were under before.

The dig didn’t escape her attention—his way of saying she couldn’t make it in a big corporate office. The bastard. And why would London hire him? Did she owe the universe a major debt or something?

Anyway, just wanted to drop you a line and let you know I’d see you at the RSD dinner this year. I skipped the last two, just wasn’t into it.

Why this year, then? Just to ruin her life?

I’ve been asked to present the designer of the year award and wanted to give you a heads up since it’s a guy from your office. Marcus Black. He’s damned impressive. The design for London’s store is fantastic and we can’t stop talking about him over here. Just remember not to wear anything too revealing to the dinner. You don’t want everyone to assume you have more boobs than brains! LOL.

See you, babe.

Emmett

Lily didn’t know what to be more offended by: the “more boobs than brains” thing or the “babe” thing. The insult was something she’d heard often from him when they dated. The fact that he’d gone out of his way to bring it up now proved his habit of marginalizing her—controlling her—was alive and well.

Marcus had added the short-skirt-no-panties thing into the bet for the RSD dinner, and she’d shrugged it off as boys being boys. But weighed against Emmett’s shit-for-brains email, Marcus’s dare sort of proved that he respected her at work. He didn’t worry someone would get the wrong impression just because she dressed sexy. He knew she had brains and boobs and respected both parts of her. She knew because at Willow Mansion he’d told her just how big a part she’d played in landing the London account. She didn’t think he was just saying that, no more than she was when she told him he was the best in the business. That was a rare revealing moment between them…followed by an even more revealing moment.

Anyway.

Focus.

She tore her mind off Marcus’s delicious abs and bare chest and glared at the word “babe” in the signoff on Emmett’s email. The moniker “asshat” she’d teasingly assigned to Marcus belonged firmly after Emmett D. Webster’s name.

Maybe she’d just show Emmett and wear not only a short skirt to the dinner, but also a low-cut top, high heels, and zero undergarments. An evil smile stole over her face.

Yes. Maybe she’d do that. Then her smile vanished. She couldn’t let Emmett—or anyone—know that she was there with Marcus, though. Not if she didn’t want her past making an unwanted comeback…like acid-washed jeans.

“McIntire.” Marcus stepped into her office and lifted a takeout menu. “Chinese?”

On the heels of that email, his presence was a breath of fresh, musky, pine-scented air. “Sure.”

“Let me guess.” He put the menu to his forehead, closed his eyes, and pretended to read her mind. “Kung Pao chicken, spice level number seven.”

Damn. Exactly right. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Okay, smarty. Like you’re not going to order the orange beef, level ten, with a double order of crab rangoon?”

“Level twelve.” He pointed the menu like he had something on her.

“That sounds hot,” she said, a smile curving her lips.

“Honey, you have no idea.” With a wink, he turned and held up the menu as Clive passed him in the hallway. “Chinese?” she heard him ask.

Face warm from Marcus’s departing comment, Lily deleted Emmett’s email with a decisive click.

Chapter Fourteen

The rest of the week went as per their usual.

Sort of.

Lily ran into Marcus in the morning scarfing down donuts near the coffeemaker. They ate lunch in the conference room together everyday, and discussed projects. But what wasn’t normal was how there were at least two times when she would have gone to his office to ask his opinion, but she hadn’t. She’d gone to Joanie instead, and Clive once, too. Avoidance wasn’t like her, and it wasn’t like Marcus to let her get away with it.

She supposed they were both being careful. Which should have made her feel better but the circumventing was…silly. It made the get-together at Clive and Joanie’s house tomorrow night seem all the more challenging since she and Marcus hadn’t really talked things through yet.

“How many of these do you think I can fit into my mouth at once?”

She looked up from her design for the end caps for a local pet shop, which she updated once a month, to see Marcus with a jar of gumballs in his hand. “Why…would you do that?”

He shrugged. “You like to dare me to do things.”

“No, you like to dare me to do things. I like to work.”

He abandoned the gumballs on the corner of her desk. “Gift from Lonnie over at the candy store for the design we did last month.”

“Oh, thoughtful.”

“Are we going to talk about what happened at the mansion?”

She looked away from the colorful gumballs. Marcus had his feet crossed at the ankles and was leaning in her doorway, arms crossed, muscles standing out in his forearms. She pictured him without a shirt and got lightheaded.

“The ghost?” she asked.

“The sex,” he said. Bluntly.

Her cheeks grew warm and then warmer when he straightened, closed the door, and crossed the room. He sat on the corner of her desk, one khaki-encased thigh really close to her. She allowed her eyes to move up to his face. “Okay.”

“You don’t want to have sex with me again,” he stated.

So not true.

“I… don’t think we should,” she said, then volleyed back, “Do you?”

“You think the mansion was a fluke.”

He wasn’t going to answer her questions either, she could see. “I think it was…intense there. The environment. The circumstance.”

“Intense.”

Flashes of what happened lit the screen of her memory and her breasts grew heavy. Her face was downright hot. Marcus tipped her chin with one finger. “I dare you to go back for one more night with me.”

She nearly choked. “Are you insane?”

“No, determined. To prove to you what’s between us wasn’t a trick of the light. We have something that could be something, McIntire. But I need you to admit it.”

Shuffling papers that didn’t need shuffling was a great way to avoid looking at him. “Well, I’m…that’s not going to happen. Willow Mansion can keep all my things because I’m not setting foot back in that haunted funhouse.”

“Or back in bed with me.”