Professional Restraint

2 Late Night Rendezvous

Ella

A sharp knock at my back door nearly has me jumping out of my skin and sets my heartbeat racing. I'm ready for bed. My long brown hair is up in a messy bun with unruly strands slipping out. In my black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, I am not fit for entertaining.

Another sharp, almost impatient-sounding, knock lets me know I don't have an option here.

"Just a minute," I call, trying to straighten up my papers.

Lost cause, that is.

I open the door to Mr. Anthony leaning against my porch railing, arms crossed. He's dressed in a full, formal black suit with a crisp white dress shirt and black tie like it's any day in the office, not close to midnight. His green eyes lock on mine, and he frowns, not bothering to hide his irritation on being left waiting.

"Miss Carter," he says coolly.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting company, or I'd have cleaned up or something," I mumble, flustered.

Mr. Anthony shifts his gaze past me before giving me a pointed look. "Can I come in?"

How I wish no was an option.

"Sure," I say, stepping aside.

He walks past me over to the kitchen table to my ordered chaos of a workspace. His deft fingers mindlessly adjust his suit cuffs while his eyes roam over my laptop and the stacks of files.

My heart flutters erratically in my chest, completely at odds with my mind. Focus Ella!

"Working late?" he asks. The answer's obvious, so I just nod. "You had the file for less than an hour before you sent the request to Miss Hernandez," he states matter-of-factly, sparing me a glance.

"I gave it a once over and just sent her my take," I mumble.

Why is he obsessing over the files? If I overstepped, he could have just said no?

"I'm sorry, I can do it without—"

"Don't be," he cuts me off as he studies me. "It took McQueen more than a day to realize the file was incomplete. They've only requested one of the five documents that you have."

The way those deep emerald green eyes study me for any reaction leaves me shifting and eager for an out. "I'm not sure what you want me to say?" I mumble, furrowing my brow.

"Just an observation," he says, passing me a folder of what I assume are the missing files. "Take a look and let me know if I missed anything."

I scan the file. He has all the information I had requested to finish the project properly. It's difficult to concentrate with him staring at me, so I move over to my laptop for some space. Despite that, the intensity of his gaze leaves me fidgeting with the papers in my hands.

"This should be good, thanks, but you didn't need to hand deliver it," I say. "You could have emailed them."

"So now that you have all the information, you'll be ready for Friday?" he asks, dismissing my statement.

"I have to check with Sophia and Tim, but I'm sure we'll be done by Tuesday. Really, I feel like the rough data is going to be done Sunday," I say as I sort the pages into my piles on the table so I can get it done tomorrow.

"Here." He reaches into his inside breast pocket, pulls out a sleek black card and passes it to me. The air grows thick between us as I take the card. "Any questions, contact me directly, no need to play the telephone game."

"K," I squeak out, my lungs forgetting how to properly function.

"Good night, Miss Carter." He gives me one last look before heading to the door. "I'll try to give you more of a heads-up next time."