Page 53 of Hard Deal

“Hello?”

“Caleb?”

His throat tightened. Imogen. “Yes?”

“It’s me...uh, Imogen. Imogen Hargrove.” More words followed, like she was chastising herself under her breath. “Can I come up?”

“Sure.” He hit the access button and hung up the receiver.

What the hell was she doing here? He’d been giving her distance since their fight, focusing on finding a new job because he couldn’t figure out what to do about her. He wanted her—that much was damn sure. Wanted to be with her, in more than the physical sense. But she didn’t believe in him and right now he needed all the belief he could get. There was no denying that his feelings for her ran deep—he simply didn’t know if now was the right time to act on them.

A soft knock caught his attention and he went to the front door. “Wow.”

The black-and-white intercom screen hadn’t prepared him for what she looked like in person. Her long gold hair sat fluffy and soft around her shoulders, her curvy body encased in a dress that would make fire engines blend into the background.

“Good wow, or bad wow?” she asked. Her hands gripped a small present and the paper crinkled beneath her white-knuckled grip.

“Definitely a good wow.” He stepped back and motioned for her to come into his apartment.

The dress hung past her knees and swished as she walked, but the rear view was the cherry on top of an incredibly sexy sundae. The dress dipped into a point at her midback, and was trimmed with a soft bit of fabric that fluttered with each step. The straps were thin enough that he could snap them with his teeth. And boy did he want to.

“I’m glad you let me know that you were Imogen Hargrove, so I didn’t get you confused with any of the other Imogens I know,” he said drily. “Very thoughtful.”

“My social awkwardness knows no bounds, apparently.” She rocked on her heels. “I heard you quit.”

He nodded. “It was time.”

“I hope it was nothing to do with what I said about...you know.”

“About Neila? No, it wasn’t that. Well, not that alone.” He watched her closely. “I waited until I had every possible sign that I should leave, instead of going with my gut from the start.”

She sucked on the inside of her cheek. It was hard not to be overwhelmed by how much he wanted to haul her into his arms and act like their whole blowup had never happened. But sweeping things under the rug was what had gotten him into trouble the first three hundred times.

“I contributed to that,” she said. “And I feel terrible. I judged you because of what happened to me in the past, and that’s not fair.”

“Everyone has baggage, Imogen. You don’t have to apologise for that.”

“Not for having baggage, but because I let it get between us.” She toyed with the parcel in her hand and then held it out to him. “Anyway, I wanted to get you a little something to say good luck with the job hunting. And to say goodbye, I guess. It’s been good working with you.”

Her voice was stiff and proper, a far cry from the wild dress and loose hair and her turning up unannounced. She was caught between the old and new, stuck in the limbo of wanting to change but not being sure how to do it. Just like he was. For two people who seemed to be polar opposites, they definitely had a lot in common.

“Thank you. I’ll be around for a few more weeks, though.” His fingertips grazed hers as he took the package. It was soft beneath the thick paper wrapping. “Is this what I think it is?”

A tentative smile played on her lips. “Maybe.”

She’d folded and stuck the edges down so perfectly that he avoided tearing into the paper like he usually would have. Inside was a pair of socks with a yellow background and little black llamas printed all over.

“I thought my socks made it hard for you to take me seriously.” He raised a brow.

“These are business llamas. Can’t you see? They’re all going to their important corporate jobs.” She pointed at one of the llamas. “That one’s a lawyer. And that one works on spreadsheets all day.”

How could he ever have thought this woman was stuffy and serious? Perhaps because she was an expert in hiding herself.

“Totally interview appropriate.” Her eyes glimmered with mischief. “Much more professional than the tacos.”

“Well, I was going with plain black.”

Imogen’s brows shot up. “I didn’t even know you owned plain black socks.”