Caught Up in Us (Caught Up In Love #1)(20)
Author: Lauren Blakely

“How can you?”

“I called you that day. I emailed you that afternoon. You totally blew me off, and I’ve been looking for every chance to talk to you.”

“You haven’t been trying that hard.”

“Bullshit, Kat. I’ve tried to talk to you every time you’ve been by and you know it.”

One of the guys a few rows ahead turned around and gave us a dirty look as Ryan Gosling smashed open a door with his elbow.

Bryan lowered his voice further. “Do you have any idea what I’m going through at work?”

“No. Why would I?”

The guy looked back again. “Keep it down, okay?”

I tipped my forehead to the exit. Bryan took me by the elbow and guided us out. As the door to the theater swung shut, we were alone in the dark hallway.

“I’m doing everything to keep it quiet, and you can’t say a word. Promise me you won’t say a word.” His voice was laced with equal parts stress and fear.

“I promise.” I wanted to reach out and run a hand gently over his cheek. He seemed to need it, but I kept my hands to myself.

He took a deep breath. “Wilco is suing us for wrongful termination. That’s what went down the day I had to take that board call at the factory. We learned he was suing. It’s totally ridiculous because he was in the wrong. He crossed every line imaginable with the intern. But the board is pissed, and I’m pissed, and I can’t take a chance. The guy’s unhinged, Kat. He calls me at my home and hangs up. Does the same to Nicole too, and she’s also seen him skulking around near our offices. I thought I knew the guy. I thought I knew what to expect, but now everything has changed. And on top of that, my board is incredibly conservative and I have to do everything properly. I can’t have a trace of anything that isn’t 100 percent professional. Which makes it really incredibly difficult when all I want to do is finish what we started.”

Everything inside of me turned hot. “You do?”

“I have not been able to stop thinking about that afternoon. I have not been able to stop thinking about you.”

My heart leapt into my throat. “Really?”

He moved closer. He was so dizzyingly near to me it was as if every nerve ending in my body was exposed. The possibility that this wasn’t one-sided made me deliriously giddy. That it was more than just a romp on the couch in his office.

“I think about you all the time. I think about how beautiful you are and how smart you are and how funny you are, and how I want nothing more than to take you out to the movies, and hold your hand and laugh at the same time. Or not even at the same time. To laugh at different things. To learn more about what you think is funny. Like, I don’t even know if you think it’s funny when people fall down stairs. Do you like pratfalls?”

His eyes were sparkling and playful.

I grinned so wide my face would hurt, but I didn’t think I could feel anything except happiness right now. “I love pratfalls. I love non-sequitur humor, and I love dark humor, and I especially love stupid humor. I laugh when I see videos of guys being pushed down hill in shopping carts, and when they slip in their socks and fall down stairs. Well, as long as they don’t really get hurt.”

“Of course not. You’re not a jerk. You just appreciate good physical comedy.”

“That I do. And what about you? What do you laugh at? I mean, besides Bucky from Get Fuzzy.”

“Ah, she remembers.”

“Of course I remember.” I punched him in the arm, and even though I wanted him to touch me all over, it meant so much more to me that he wanted to talk. That he wanted to know me. How I’d changed. How I hadn’t changed.

“I remember everything too,” he said softly, and I felt a ribbon of heat rush through my body. “To answer your question. Cartoon cats are still a yes. I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, but I like those silly Internet pictures with dogs saying ridiculous things. I mean, not really saying ridiculous things. Just captions. Like this one husky dog, and there was a caption that said ‘Oh you ran a marathon. How heavy was the sled?’”

“I saw that one too. I loved it. So did my roommate because she’s run five marathons.”

“That’s impressive. And I like late-night talk shows. I like politics, so I especially enjoy political humor and the late-night guys are the best.”

“What about movies? What are your favorite movies?”

“Well just in case the guys committee is listening I’ll tell you The Fast and The Furious. Or The Hangover.” Then he lowered his voice and whispered. “But I’ll admit to you, only you, that it’s actually Casablanca.”

Pinch me now, I thought. Wake me up from this dream. Because right then, I closed my eyes and watched that perfect film unfurl in front of me, a romance that left you breathless no matter how many times you’d seen it. I could feel myself sinking into that heady state, like I was under a spell, transfixed, and I could touch the scenes, feel every sensation the characters felt zip through me. They’d always have Paris.

I felt wobbly, and I swayed toward him. He caught me, and wrapped his arms around me, tucking me close to him. He pressed his chin against my head. “Kat.”

I melted into him, savoring the feel of his chest, even under his sweaty tee-shirt, against me. Here with him, I didn’t have a care in the world. Even though being with him was the riskiest thing in the world. I closed my eyes and flashed back to my parents, to the store, to my plans. Then to Professor Oliver, and his wife, and my business. Everything else was so much more important than a mere feeling. I knew that. I really did. But yet, I didn’t want anything more in my life right now than this moment, this closeness, this man.

“I’m dying to kiss you. I want to take you out to dinner, and walk around the city, and talk about anything and everything.”

I could barely feel myself anymore. My whole body was edgy, floating. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. I felt light-headed, like I’d just taken a painkiller and gotten that warm flush where it kicks in and spreads throughout your chest and belly. The little hairs on my arms were standing on end.

“But I can’t,” he said.

“Why?”

“I can’t risk it. The Wilco thing…”

“But she was a high school student. Wasn’t she seventeen?”

“Yeah, but still. He’s hunting out dirt. He’s hunting out anything right now.”