If only Tara knew that she was only making his argument that much stronger. She’d at least been a bit of a buffer between Astrid and him. Now she was leaving it to just the two of them? “The project right now is nothing more than adapting the existing plan to meet the city’s needs. Those are small details that are best left to one of the more junior architects.” Clay hoped this new line of thinking would convince them.
Tara shook her head and pinched her lower lip between her fingers. “I don’t know.” She turned to Grant. “I would just feel a whole lot better about things if Clay was still the principal. He’s been working on it from the very beginning. It would make me very nervous to step away from it if he wasn’t still there.”
Clay could not catch a break here. He kept losing ground, despite having dug in his heels.
“It’s my fault,” Astrid interjected, surprising the hell out of Clay. “The truth is that Clay has a hard time working with me. But don’t worry. I will do better. We will work out our difficulties and everyone can proceed with their plans. Don’t worry about it.”
Tara returned her sights to Astrid, then directed them at Clay. “Is that what this is really about? Office politics?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Clay answered.
“Do you want to tell me what, exactly?” Tara countered.
As for further explanation, Clay had none. It looked as though his bed had been made for him and he’d better learn to lie down in it, however much it bothered him. Perhaps he could start wearing blinders to the office or tell Astrid that they should only communicate via email. “Look, it’s my fault. Not Astrid’s. I’m too rigid in my ways.” He didn’t want to cast himself in a bad light, but he also didn’t want Astrid to take the heat for this. He’d started it.
“Give us some time,” Astrid said. “We’ll work it out. And if we don’t, I’ll take myself off the project.”
A frustrated grumble fought to leave Clay’s throat. That wasn’t what he wanted either. But he didn’t really have a choice. He could live with the torment of Astrid for another week or two, then he’d figure out his next move. “Yes. Fine. We’ll find a compromise.”
“Okay, then,” Grant said, seeming satisfied. He and Tara were quickly whisked back into the flow of the party, celebrating their many bits of good news.
Clay knew he was supposed to be happy tonight. He had the nomination he’d worked hard for. And if things were simpler for him, he could allow himself to feel at least a little jubilation. He might even flirt with Astrid, or at the very least, not let her get to him so much.
“I hope I didn’t put you on the spot,” Astrid said. “I just don’t want things to be strained between us.” She looked down at her feet, then back up, capturing him with the storm in her eyes. “I mean, any more than they are.”
Good God, he was a jerk. Part of him wanted to explain what his problem really was, but even he failed to fully comprehend it. He only knew that there was a force deep inside him telling him to stay away. It was a reflex. He couldn’t help it. “I’ll see you at the office on Monday, okay?”
“I’d like to have a meeting first thing so we can talk about this some more.”
He shook his head. “No need for a conversation. It’s not you. It’s me.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. He needed to get out of there, get back to his daughter, Delia, and sleep off the effects of this night. Perhaps he’d have a clearer head in the morning. He scanned the crowd for his sister, but she was nowhere to be seen. He’d text her when he got home. “Have a good weekend,” he said to Astrid before starting for the door.
“There’s no way it’s just you.” Astrid was right behind him, trotting along in her heels, the ones that made her legs look unbelievable.
“Trust me. It is.” He pulled the door open, but out of habit, he stood aside for Astrid. Damn his gentlemanly ways.
Astrid turned back to him as soon as she was out on the flagstone landing. The night breeze blew her hair across her face, and she shook it free. He struggled to remain standing. How could any woman be so beautiful? “It’s never just one person’s fault. And I know there has to be a reason you treat me the way you do.”
Clay had worried his cold shoulder had gotten to be too much. He closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the most fun to work with. I’m under a lot of stress. It’s not an excuse, but it might explain some of it.”
“I know I can be overly enthusiastic. I’m just excited to have a job where I feel like I have more of a purpose. I was a model for years and that didn’t make me feel very valuable.”
“I’m sure your employers were very happy with your work.” How could they not be? She was so damn sexy, she could sell a brick to a man standing on a diving board. He resumed his trek to his car.
“Maybe. I don’t really know. But I do know that I enjoy being at Sterling and I don’t want that to change.”
“You own a chunk of the company. You can write your own ticket, can’t you?” He stopped and turned to her. “Honestly, do you even need to work?”
“Do you?” She artfully arched both eyebrows at him.
No, he didn’t need to work, at least not for the money. He and
