The Corporate Marriage Campaign

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“I do need to come inside to get my tie and return Dave’s jacket,” he pointed out smoothly.

“Oh. Of course.” She didn’t seem eager to stand aside to allow him in, but she wasn’t in a hurry to turn the lights on, either. If she had been any other woman, he would have interpreted that as a hint, because kisses stolen in the dark seemed to be so much more romantic to the female of the species. But then Darcy didn’t fit the mold in a lot of ways.

He considered kissing her good-night just to prove he could, and concluded that she was likely to haul off and slug him. In that case, by morning he and Caroline would be a matched set, and the ad campaign would be right back in the soup. No, stealing a kiss would make no sense whatsoever.

And he should have himself committed for even thinking about doing anything more than that—though the simple truth didn’t do much to stop him from considering all the possibilities.

He quietly got his suit coat from where he’d left it in Dave’s office, draped his tie around his neck once more and paused at the door. “You’ll be all right here alone?”