From yet another project!

And he also seemed to be making a real mess of a pass. In her experience, the last decade of it at least, busy, high-earning people did not have time to “talk.” They had time to email, and they had time to text, but they didn’t have time to walk you into a hallway and start exchanging thoughts.

            Sloane didn’t know what he wanted from her. Maybe she was still high. But it felt good, the not knowing. To have a man—a tall man, a man like something out of an outdoor clothing catalog—in a hallway all alone, even if it was just to talk. She hadn’t talked or laughed in so long. It was astonishing, she saw it. Despite the inquisition that she had undergone, and in a public relations sense, had failed, she had had a good time that night. She’d downright had fun.

            And yet. And yet, the darkness. The responsibilities. The wives. The tomorrow of every minute of it, the mistakes within the now. Sloane had started the tour alongside hired colleagues. Every sinew in her body warned her that nothing good would come of allowing her heart to welcome them as friends.