Just like that, they were back on professional footing. James signaled for the check, feeling strangely disappointed at the shift.
"One more thing," Victoria said as the waiter approached with the bill. "For this project to succeed, we need to present a united front. No visible cracks for Matthias or his team to exploit."
"Of course," James agreed, watching as she discreetly checked her reflection in the back of her dessert spoon, adjusting an invisible imperfection in her makeup.
"That means," Victoria continued, sliding her company card to the waiter without looking at the total, "that any... tensions between us need to be addressed privately."
"As opposed to me telling you 'no' in front of the entire office?" James said dryly.
Victoria's lips twitched. "Precisely."
Outside the restaurant, the night air was cool against James's face. He expected Victoria to immediately call her car service, but instead, she hesitated on the sidewalk beside him.
"My apartment is only a few blocks from here," she said, staring straight ahead. "I thought I'd walk."
James glanced at her five-inch heels dubiously. "In those?"
Victoria's gaze dropped to his shoes, then traveled back up to his face with deliberate slowness. "Some of us don't mind a little discomfort for the sake of appearance, James. And heels serve multiple purposes—they're elegant and put me at eye level with men who might otherwise think they can look down on me."
The jab at his height—he stood exactly at her eye level now, meaning she knew precisely how tall he was—was so typical that James almost laughed. Even as his eyes betrayed him again, briefly tracing the curve of her backside in that perfectly tailored dress, he reminded himself that this was Victoria Sharp—ruthlessly professional, fundamentally self-contained, and completely oblivious to him as a man.
"Would you like company?" he found himself asking, immediately preparing for rejection.
Victoria considered him for a long moment, her expression inscrutable in the dim street lighting. "I suppose that would be acceptable. The neighborhood is generally safe, but it's late."
They walked in silence for a block, Victoria's heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement. James found himself hyper-aware of her presence beside him—the faint scent of her perfume, the occasional brush of her arm against his when they navigated around other pedestrians. Each contact, however brief, sent an electric charge through him that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
"This project," Victoria said suddenly, "will be challenging."
James glanced at her. "In what way?"
Victoria kept her gaze forward. "Working with different opinionated people, away from the office... it changes dynamics."
James's heart rate increased slightly. "Are you concerned about that?"
"I simply believe in being prepared," Victoria said crisply. "Clear expectations prevent misunderstandings."
They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. In the glow of the street lamp, Victoria's profile was sharp and perfect, like something carved from marble. James fought the urge to reach out and touch her face, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked in this light.
"I'm always professional," he said instead, his voice rougher than intended.
Victoria glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "I've never doubted that."
The light changed, and they continued walking. James tried to focus on the sidewalk ahead, on the cool night air, on anything but the way Victoria's dress shifted with each step, outlining her curves and long smooth legs in a way that made his mouth go dry.
This narcissist ...., he thought when she made another offhand comment about his choice of tie, the familiar anger flaring in his chest. Then immediately felt guilty for the thought. Victoria wasn't cruel; she was protective—of herself, her company, her carefully constructed image.
And that was precisely the problem. Because despite her cutting remarks, despite the way she wielded her authority like a weapon, despite every rational reason he had to dislike her, James couldn't stop the inconvenient truth: he wanted her with an intensity that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
They reached the entrance of her building, an elegant modern two-story structure with a security man who nodded respectfully as they approached.
"Thank you for walking with me," Victoria said formally, as if they were concluding a business meeting rather than a dinner that had veered dangerously close to personal territory.
"My pleasure," James replied, aware of the double meaning of his words even if she wasn't.
Victoria hesitated, then extended her hand. "To a successful partnership with Next?"
James took her hand, warm and surprisingly small in his. He resisted the urge to pull her closer, to see if she would allow it. "To a successful partnership," he agreed instead, releasing her hand before he did something stupid.
Victoria nodded once. "Goodnight, James. I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Victoria," he replied, watching as she disappeared into her building, his eyes lingering on the gentle sway of her hips until she was gone from view.
As he walked toward the subway, James tried to make sense of the evening. They had discussed business, certainly. They had strategized about the Next project. But something else had happened too—at least for him. The attraction he'd been keeping hidden had intensified to the point where ignoring it was no longer an option.
For a woman who prided herself on clear communication, Victoria had been remarkably ambiguous tonight. Was that intentional? Did she somehow sense his feelings and enjoy toying with him? No—Victoria was many things, but she wasn't cruel in that particular way. More likely, she remained completely unaware of his increasingly inappropriate thoughts, seeing him as nothing more than her competent, if occasionally frustrating, executive assistant.
James sighed, descending the subway stairs. Six weeks of intensive collaboration lay ahead. Six weeks of working closely with Victoria Sharp, trying to maintain professional composure while battling this growing desire. Six weeks of watching her move, speak, command rooms with her presence, all while pretending he saw her only as his boss.
He had a feeling "The Agreement" was about to be tested in ways Victoria couldn't possibly anticipate.