“That sounds an awful lot like what you need and not what he needs.”
I shoved that truth aside and rationalized, “Have you met Caine Carraway? I don’t think that man knows what he needs.”
The receptionist was staring at me as if I was ridiculous.
“You want to see Mr. Carraway of Carraway Financial Holdings without an appointment?”
I knew it wouldn’t be easy to walk into the huge rose-granite-walled building on International Place and expect to be escorted directly to Caine’s office. Still, the receptionist was treating it as if I were asking to see the president. “Yes.” I curbed my natural instinct to return her question with sarcasm. She didn’t look like she’d respond well to that.
She sighed. “One moment, please.”
I glanced over at the security guard who was manning the metal detectors situated before the elevators. Carraway Financial Holdings shared the building with another company, which meant there were security cameras everywhere. No matter what I tried to pull here, I was going to get caught. It was all just a matter of timing. I was okay with getting caught … as long it was after I got in to see Caine.
I sidled away from the reception desk while the pinchy-mouthed receptionist lady frowned at her nails. While her focus was elsewhere I smoothed on a fake look of nonchalance and began to walk toward the detectors.
“ID.” The security guard held out a hand to stop me from going any farther.
I stared up into his bearded face and noted the alertness in his eyes. Damn my luck. I couldn’t get a clichéd, unobservant security guy?
I smiled innocently. “The lady at reception told me they’ve run out of visitor ID passes. She told me to go on up.”
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
I gestured to her. “Ask her.”
He huffed and looked over at reception. I realized right away he was going to yell the question at her so he didn’t have to move from his post.
It was my only opportunity.
I skittered past him and rushed through the detectors and heard him shout just as I was hurrying into the elevator that would take me to Caine’s floor. The doors shut as the security guard’s foot came into view.
“You’ve lost it,” I murmured to myself as the elevator climbed. “You’ve actually finally lost it. You should have taken the therapy when it was offered.”
I heard a snort from my right. I was sharing the elevator with a guy who grinned at me as if I was hilarious. “It doesn’t work for some people,” he said.
I was confused. “What?”
“Therapy,” he explained. “Works for some, not for others.”
I took in his sharp suit and expensive watch. He was good-looking with perfect light brown hair and vibrant blue eyes, and I could tell with just one look that along with the designer suit he wore designer confidence. He was also vaguely familiar. “Did it work for you?”
He shrugged, his grin wicked. “My therapist worked for me.”
I laughed. “Well, at least you got something out of it.”
His smile widened and he nodded at the elevator buttons. “Carraway Financial Holdings?”
I nodded and my stomach flipped nervously at the thought of seeing him again. “I need to speak to the CEO.”
“Caine?” The guy’s eyebrows rose before his gaze roamed over me. “Should I tackle you and let security have you?”
“Mr. Carraway would probably prefer that, but he needs to let me have my say.”
“Uh … who are you?”
I shot him a wary look. “Um … who are you?”
“A friend. I’m supposed to have lunch with him.”
The elevator doors pinged open. “When I have it I’ll give you my firstborn if you let me cut into the first five minutes of that.”
He stepped out and I followed him. His gaze was appraising.
I waited, my eyes darting nervously to the receptionist, who looked awfully concerned by my sudden appearance.
“I’ll tell you what.” Elevator Guy drew my attention back to him, amusement lacing his words. “The detectors didn’t go off, and it’s clear you’re not carrying a weapon.” He gestured to my tailored shorts and tank top. “So I’m going to take you in to see Caine. But”—he cut me off before I could give him my relieved thanks—“I get to accompany you. I’m curious to hear how Caine knows someone like you.” He put his hand lightly on my lower back and started guiding me toward reception.
I wrinkled my nose, not sure if I’d just been insulted or complimented. “Someone like me?”
“Mr. Lexington.” The receptionist shot up from his chair, his voice high with panic. “I believe that woman just dodged security.”
“It’s fine, Dean.” The guy, who I now recognized from the society pages as Henry Lexington, the son of Randall Lexington, one of Caine’s business partners, waved away the receptionist’s concerns. “Let Caine know we’re on our way.”
Bemused, I let Lexington lead me down a corridor of offices. Near the end of the hallway, the space opened out and a glass desk as stylish as the reception desk we’d previously passed was positioned aside two large double doors. A brass plaque on the door declared that the room beyond belonged to Caine Carraway, CEO.
There were no windows into the office on this side, affording Caine complete privacy.
The young man I’d seen at the photo shoot stood up from behind the glass desk as we approached. His eyes darted to me and then widened with recognition. “Uh, Mr. Lexington—”
“I’m expected.” Lexington threw him a debonair smile that definitely worked for him and reached for the door.
“But—”
The PA was cut off as Lexington led me inside Caine’s huge office. While there were no windows behind us, there was a wall of them opposite us and along the right side of the office. Light streamed into the modern but sparsely decorated space.
I barely took anything in, however, because my gaze zeroed in on Caine.
He looked equal parts enraged and baffled by my presence as he shot to his feet from behind a huge antique desk.
There was another dip in my belly, this one a little lower than the last. Although I’d already witnessed it, the power of his presence continued to surprise me.
“Henry, what the fuck?”