Off the Clock

Two weeks later, Clara submitted the final notes for her contract.

Price had reduced the level of care Adrian needed at home. He would continue his appointments and physical therapy, but he no longer required the same nursing team. Clara had received new assignments from her agency. She should have been pleased by how perfectly everything fit.

She was. It just wasn't all she felt.

She arranged the supplies in the drawer, checked that she'd left no personal belongings, and discovered one of her pens beside Adrian's chair.

“You stole my pen.”

He looked up from his computer.

“You left it here.”

“It has my name on it.”

“I noticed. The lettering is very clear.”

She picked it up. She wanted him to say something that would make leaving easier. Or impossible. She was annoyed with herself for not deciding which she preferred.

Titan slept across his blanket. She crouched beside him and rubbed his thick neck.

“You'll have to find someone else to bribe the kitchen.”

“He already has four people,” Adrian said. “You were the only one who pretended to resist.”

She laughed, but the sound came out thin.

After a final phone handoff with Price, she picked up her bag.

Adrian closed his laptop.

“I want to have dinner with you on Friday.”

She stopped near the door.

“I'm not on your schedule anymore.”

“I know.”

“And you don't need somebody to supervise your meals.”

“I know that too.”

Clara pressed her lips together so she wouldn't smile too quickly.

“Then be clear.”

He stood. The movement no longer carried the strain of those first weeks. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His nearness reminded her that she'd spent days looking at his body only in terms of what needed to heal.

Now there was no chart to fill in.

“I'm asking you out, Clara. I want to see you without a clock telling you when to leave.”

Heat rose in her face.

“I work until five on Friday.”

“Seven?”

“Seven thirty. And I choose dessert.”

His smile made her drop her gaze for a second.

“I think I can live with that.”

On Friday, Clara changed dresses three times.

The first looked too serious. The second had a zipper that had decided to become a personal problem. The third was navy, left her shoulders bare, and fell in a way that made her stop in front of the mirror.

She let down her brown hair, put on mascara, and chose small earrings. She didn't look like somebody else. She looked like herself after a full night's sleep and a good reason to leave the apartment.

When Adrian arrived, the hallway still smelled of fresh paint. He carried a coat over one arm and wore a white shirt open at the collar, revealing the edge of a tattoo.

He took his time looking at her. He didn't try to hide it.

“You look beautiful.”

For a second, she forgot the clever response she'd rehearsed.

“Thank you. You're looking a lot better than the first time too.”

“I'm glad you noticed.”

He offered her his coat on the way to the car. She accepted because she was cold, not because his fingers brushing her shoulders made her want to move closer. At least, that was what she decided to think.

The restaurant overlooked the river. There were other diners, quiet music, and a table reserved away from the main walkway. Marcus sat elsewhere in the room, discreet enough that she only found him after looking.

“Does he have dinner on all your dates?” she asked.

“Only the ones I'd like to survive.”

She studied his face.

“You can joke. But I'm going to ask things you might not want to answer.”

Adrian set down his menu.

“Ask.”

She didn't request an inventory of crimes. She asked whether the danger at the house would be part of her life if they kept seeing each other.

He didn't evade the question.

“It could be. My family has legitimate businesses, and it has a history you know something about. Some people follow me out of loyalty. Others do it out of fear. That doesn't disappear because I'm having dinner with you.”

Clara ran her thumb along the edge of her napkin.

“And what do you expect from me?”

“Tonight? Dinner. Afterward, I'd like you to tell me if you want to do this again.”

“You usually want more control than that.”

“I do.”

The answer made her look up. He didn't seem proud of the admission or interested in making it charming.

“I won't promise something I've never done,” he continued. “But I want to try to get this right.”

She let the silence sit for a moment.

Then she picked up her menu.

“In that case, let's start with something that doesn't come with instructions from Dr. Price.”

His smile returned.

They talked about small things, and it became strangely intimate. Adrian liked cooking when he didn't have an audience. Clara read the last pages of novels when she got anxious, a habit he found personally offensive. He admitted buying three versions of the same toy because Titan destroyed only the blue one.

“You have an entire organization afraid of you, and you're controlled by a color-blind dog.”

“I was going to ask you not to tell anyone. Now I'm reconsidering dessert.”

She ordered lemon tart and gave him the first bite.

After dinner, they walked a little way beside the river. Wind caught her hair. Adrian lifted his hand to move it away from her face, then paused near her temple as she turned toward him.

Clara stood facing him.

“You're very quiet.”

“I'm trying to decide whether kissing you now would end our conversation too soon.”

She placed a hand against his shirt and felt his warmth through the fabric.

“We can pick it up afterward.”

Adrian bent toward her. The first contact was careful, almost a question. Clara moved closer and made the answer clear. His hand slid to her waist, steady enough to hold her against the wind.

She'd lost count of how often she'd touched him out of professional necessity. None of it had prepared her for this.

When they drew apart, he kept his forehead close to hers.

“Still want to talk?”

She gave a low laugh, her heart racing.

“I do. I just need to remember what about.”

He kissed her again, more briefly, and took her hand.

In the car, she didn't move away when their knees touched. At her apartment door, she took her time finding her keys.

“When can I see you again?” Adrian asked.

No mention of Titan. No excuse about care or forgotten paperwork.

She liked hearing him ask so plainly.

“Sunday. I have the afternoon off.”

“So do I.”

“You haven't even checked.”

He brushed his fingers over hers.

“I'll take care of that before Sunday.”