One Mad Night by Julia London Read Free Book Online Page A

Ian said as he reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out some plates.
    â€œHow did you know this kitchen was here?” Chelsea asked.
    â€œHanging around to talk to Brad when he was working late.”
    Did he mean hanging around to run his ideas past Brad? To find out which ones resonated with him? Chelsea could kick herself—she’d never thought to do that.
    Ian held out the cartons of Lean Cuisines to her. “Which do you want?”
    â€œIan!” Chelsea said, and she looked over her shoulder, half expecting Brad to come striding through the door at any moment. “We can’t take his food!”
    â€œI’ll take the lasagna,” Ian said. “And I don’t think Brad is going to be too upset, seeing as we are locked in. If you’re worried about it, I’ll talk to him—”
    â€œNo, nope. No need for that,” she said quickly. She could imagine how that conversation would go. Ian would say something like Chelsea was concerned she shouldn’t be rummaging through your things and fail to mention he’d been the first one in.
    Ian smiled, almost as if he could read her thoughts. “Hey, I’d cover for you. I’m a nice guy that way.” He offered her the Tuscan chicken.
    Chelsea took the box from his hand and tore it open. “I didn’t know you were so chummy with Brad.”
    â€œI wouldn’t call it chummy , exactly.”
    â€œSo what would you call it?” she asked, shifting her gaze to the box. “Buttering him up? Picking his brain? Getting an advantage on the Tesla account?” She stuck the container in the microwave and punched the buttons without thinking, as she happened to be on intimate terms with a diet of Lean Cuisine.
    â€œWell, I could have,” Ian happily admitted. “But the truth is I was just being a guy. Guys talk, Chelsea.” He reached around her, his chest—a very hard chest—brushing against her back in that tiny kitchenette, and grabbed some forks.
    â€œSure, that’s all it was.”
    â€œWhat, you don’t believe me? As it turns out, there are several big Knicks fans in this office, myself and Brad included in that number.”
    â€œHey!” She turned around, her shoulder bumping into his chest. “ I like the Knicks,” she said defensively.
    â€œYou do ?”
    â€œYou don’t have to look so surprised.”
    â€œWell, I am,” he said. “I never would have guessed you for a Knicks fan.”
    â€œWhy not?” Chelsea demanded.
    â€œChelsea, calm down,” he said with a smile. “I just mean that you don’t have any Knicks paraphernalia hanging around. You never mention it.”
    â€œThat’s because I usually have too much work to do to sit around and talk about last night’s game. And how was I supposed to know the entire office was sitting around in Brad’s office talking about the Knicks? No one told me.”
    â€œThe entire office? I never said the entire office. I said I was. And I never mentioned it to you because you are clearly…you know.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket and shrugged.
    â€œNo, I don’t know. I am clearly…what?”
    â€œCome on, you know what I mean,” he said, and he gave her a small, slightly pathetic smile.
    â€œNo, I don’t know what you mean.”
    â€œAll right,” he said as the microwave dinged. “I didn’t tell you because you’re a little uptight, all right? You don’t exactly invite conversation.”
    Chelsea gasped. She closed her eyes with a groan and dipped down with a bit of frustration, because it wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. Her best friend, Angie, had told her the same thing one night after they’d been out at a bar. There’s, like, these don’t-talk-to-me waves rolling off you .
    â€œWhy does everyone keep saying that?” Chelsea took the container from the oven