Iris

Rubbing gritty eyes, I held onto a warm mug of coffee and stared at the man draped across my cream-colored sofa, waiting for him to disappear. Instead, Garrett's chest continued to rise and fall in the steady rhythm of deep sleep.

His long frame was too big for the couch. One leg dangled off the end, and the other rested half on and half on the floor. Stubble covered his square jaw, nearly hiding the slight dimple in the center of his chin, and the thick, straight brows a half shade lighter than his hair were relaxed above his closed eyes, making me realize how focused he stayed when awake.

Sipping on my coffee, I turned to sneak back to my bedroom before he woke and saw his employee wearing a t-shirt that barely covered her backside. It had been a risk coming to the kitchen dressed like this, but my sleep logged brain didn't function well enough to find pants without caffeine. And I'd forgotten there was a man on my couch since that hadn't ever happened before.

"Ivy."

I jumped. Coffee sloshed over the edge, burning my fingers. Between the sharp inhale of shock and the gasp of pain, Garrett stood and crossed the room, taking my hand in his to inspect the damage.

"I'm fine," I said in a small, breathy voice as his fingertips danced over my skin.

He nodded, dropping my hand, but before he stepped away, he froze, his dark lashes fanning over his cheeks as he lowered his eyes in a slow scan of my body. My nipples responded to the perusal, standing to obvious attention through the thin material of my white nightshirt.

"Where the fuck are your clothes?" He demanded, his voice husky, his tone accusatory.

"In my bedroom. Where I was headed when you stopped me."

"Oh." Garrett rubbed the back of his neck and stepped back, not bothering to hide the growing tent in his pants. "Shit. I'm sorry. For a moment, I forgot where I was. I should've gone home. This is unprofessional."

Escaping behind the island counter, I pulled another mug from the cabinet. Filling it to the brim, I handed it to him. "I'm sure you would've gone home if you hadn't fallen asleep."

"About that—I really appreciate you being willing to work with me on the new pitch."

"Of course."

The time should've been spent working on my novel, but when he looked at me with such panic and frustration last night, I'd been unable to stop myself from volunteering to brainstorm for a new idea. We took our food to go and brought it to my place because it was closer, and within a few hours, I knew my heart was in big trouble.

The legs of my barstool scraped across the hardwood floor as he pulled it out to sit. A flash of gray zipped past my feet. Two seconds later, Sushi landed on the counter, her whiskers trembling as she sniffed Garrett's coffee cup.

"No, we don't get on counters, Sushi," I admonished, swiping her up and dropping her back on the floor with an apologetic grimace. "Sorry. She's young. Still learning."

He ignored me and retrieved the now meowing kitten. Tucked against his body, he returned to his chair and scratched under her chin, earning a deep, rumbling purr. My ovaries sat straight up. I thought this man couldn't get more attractive, but never had I imagined him with bed head and holding a kitten.

"She's beautiful, but umm..."

"Umm, what?"

Still petting Sushi, he jutted his chin toward my kitchen area. It wasn't large by some standards, but it was roomy enough to do some serious cooking when the mood struck, and the soft raspberry painted cabinets contrasted nicely with the white quartz tops and subway tile backsplash. The appliances were new but designed to look vintage. Like the rest of my home, it was ultra feminine and cozy, with just a hint of modern clean lines to keep it from looking too rustic.

"Have something against pink cabinets?" I asked as I scanned the space, looking for anything out of place.

"It's just not at all what I pictured for you."

Considering he thought I was Ivy, that wasn't surprising, but I was curious what he imagined for her. "And what did you imagine?"

"Stainless steel. Black and white. And certainly not a stove that looked like it's actually used. Honestly—and I know I don't know her very well—this space feels more like Iris. Even the fact that you have a cat shocks me."

Room tilting at his spot on assessment, I put my hand on the counter to steady myself. "Actually, you're right. This isn't my place. I'm house-sitting for Iris."

"Oh." Was it sleep deprivation playing tricks on me or did he look disappointed? "That makes sense."

"I mean, her place is so much better than mine. Even if it is a little too... old lady for my taste." How many times had Ivy said exactly that to me? She'd been outraged when I showed her the paint samples. And as much as it pained me to disrespect my home that way, I needed the reminder that right now, I was Ivy, not Iris. If I didn't get it together, someone would figure it out.

"I think it's nice." Garrett stood and put Sushi down. "I think you two have more in common than I thought."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"No, really," he insisted, coming around the edge of the counter, his hand sliding across the flat surface until his fingertips brushed against mine. "I never would have expected you to go out of your way to help me like that—not on such short notice."

"It's kind of my job," I spluttered.

"No, it's not. And," he cleared his throat, his fingers inching over mine, his gaze sliding over my curves. "It's definitely not part of your job to invite me in, let me crash on your couch, or..."

His head lowered. Was he going to kiss me? Oh dear god... if he kissed me, I might combust then and there, and he would know at once I was Iris. Because a woman with Ivy's experience would never be undone so easily.

"Or?" I turned my hand over so I could link my fingers in his.

"Or—"

A pounding on the door made us jump apart, and once again, the coffee in my cup spilled. This time it wasn't hot enough to burn, but it splashed down my front, turning the thin material to completely see through. Garrett hissed through his teeth, his grip on my hand turning painful, and I decided I didn't give a damn who was on the other side of that door.

"Open up! I know you're here. You are not skipping class again!"

Shit. Minh was here. We were supposed to go to a spin class together.

"I should go," he said, sounding strangled.

"Yeah. We don't want to be late for work."

"Right."

I snatched my coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on as I walked him to the door. Hoping to ease the tension between us, I said, "We'll get the paperwork filed today, and you'll be back on track. We'll set it up like before so you don't have to relearn—"

The doorknob twisted under his hand, but he didn't open the door. Something flickered behind his eyes as he studied me, and his jaw tightened. "No. I don't think that will do."

"What?"

"This was as much your idea as it was mine, Ivy."

He pulled open the door and stepped back as Minh pushed inside. Whatever she was about to say died on her lips when she spied my attire, and her mouth hung open as she looked between Garrett and me.

"I'll see you in the office, Ivy."

"Wait, Garrett. What did you mean by that?"

The elevator doors were already closing as he shouted, "You're going to the conference with me. Better start packing!"