Page 18 of Executive Privilege

"Morrison mentioned that the retreat includes some outdoor team-building activities. Hiking, maybe some climbing exercises." He smiles, knowingly.

Climbing. My interest is piqued. "That sounds like a pretty cool retreat."

"Should I tell Morrison we're committed to the extended timeline?"

"Yes." The word comes out before I can second-guess myself. "Absolutely."

"Good." There's a weighted silence suddenly that I can't quite read. "Before you go, a friend of mine owns a gallery downtown, and he's opening a new show tomorrow night. Contemporary artists, some really innovative work. I thought you might be interested."

His friend owns an art gallery. That explains the unique art in Nicholas' office.

"Is this work-related?" I ask too fast. Stupid. What if it's not, and now he changes his mind about inviting me?

"No," he says simply. "It's not."

The honesty in his voice catches me by surprise, and my body responds before I do.

"I'd love to go," I hear myself saying.

"Good. It starts at seven. I could pick you up, or we could meet there, whatever you're more comfortable with."

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes with a text. Emma, probably checking to see if I've made any progress on a plan I'm definitely not ready for.

"Actually," I say, then stop myself. Whatever I was about to say would probably be a terrible idea.

"Actually?" Nicholas asks, looking genuinely curious.

"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud." I stand up, needing to put some distance between us before I say the wrong thing.

"Meeting there might be easier," I say, proud of how level my voice sounds. "I'll probably be coming straight from the climbing gym anyway."

"Of course you will," he says, and there's an almost fond quality in his voice. "I'll text you the address."

After I leave his office, I walk back to my desk feeling both relieved and disappointed. The art gallery is a big enough step forward without throwing family dinners into the mix. Damn Emma for putting that in my head.

My phone buzzes with another text from Emma:"So? Any progress on the dinner situation?"

I text back:"Too soon for that. Please just drop it. But we're going to an art gallery tomorrow night."

Her response is immediate:"PROGRESS! That's basically a date. What are you going to wear?"

"It's not a date. It's... art appreciation."

"Uh-huh. Tell yourself that then."

I put my phone away.

I try to focus on work, but my mind keeps wandering to tomorrow night. Nicholas at an art gallery. Nicholas in a setting that has nothing to do with work or professional obligations.

This is either going to be the best idea I've ever had, or it's going to destroy any chance of maintaining professional distance.

Either way, there's no backing down now. I've committed to the move, and like any good climber, the only option is to trust the hold and keep going up.

Across the office, I catch Nicholas looking at me. When our eyes meet, he gives me that slight nod I'm learning to recognize—acknowledgment, approval, anticipation.

***

Nicholas is walking me to my car at the end of another late day. The parking garage feels different tonight, though. He feels different. There's an energy crackling between us, it's impossible to deny it now.