Six Month Rule (Kingston Ale House) by A.J. Pine Page A

putting her best interest first, and wanting anything from her at all— enjoying himself while he was away from his daughter—that wasn’t putting Sophie first, either.
    Will tapped the icon on the photo of himself that allowed him to send the picture, and then he typed in Tara’s name. She’d agreed to him texting Sophie on her phone as often as he liked.
    Love you, Soph , he typed under the attached photo as the lift came to a halt. Will was ready to step out when he glanced at the lit-up number above the door. It was five, not ten. No worries , he thought. Just another straggler grabbing a coffee and heading in late. So he stepped back against the wall and waited for the doors to part. When they did, the first thing he noticed were the red peep-toe booties, the heel at least four inches.
    Holly might have been petite, but in shoes like that, her legs went on for miles, and his eyes traveled up their length covered in sheer, black stockings speckled with tiny polka dots—polka dots that made him think of those freckles on her nose.
    Will cleared his throat, hoping it would clear his head, but when he saw that the stockings disappeared into a pair of fitted black shorts—oh good God, it was one of those short suits, bloody sexy as hell—he half considered bolting out the doors as she stepped in.
    “Guess we’re both running a bit late this morning, huh?” Holly asked with a pleasant, red-lipped smile. Her hair fell over her left shoulder in a loose plait, the soft look framing her vibrant features. “Purposefully, maybe?” She shrugged. “Actually drank my latte in the cafeteria.”
    She shrugged ?
    But that wasn’t the fiery, take-no-shite Holly who stormed into his office or called him out on something as simple as being dismissed. Not that he’d meant to dismiss her.
    Why wasn’t she yelling at him? Why wasn’t she giving him hell for not bringing up Sophie before he’d tried to kiss her? No. She was taking the piss, making him squirm. That must be it. Holly knew fashion. There was no doubt about that. But walking into work today looking like that, with…with those shoes. His first words to her echoed in his head. I’d have gone for the red.
    He was ever the bastard, and she was most definitely taking the piss. He deserved it.
    “Holly,” he said once the doors closed, giving them a possible five stories of privacy before they’d have to get on with their day. “I never should have—”
    She waved him off as if he was apologizing for knocking her bag off her shoulder, not for falling into his old habit of thinking of himself before anyone else.
    “I have a meeting with the runway designer at ten thirty,” she said. “And then I was thinking of a lunch meeting.”
    His brows furrowed.
    “A lunch meeting?”
    Holly nodded. “Yes. You liked Jamie’s bar, right? Kingston Ale House? Well, they have a fabulous beer garden, and it’s only in the seventies today. I thought we’d hop in a taxi, enjoy the sunshine, and have a meeting.”
    She bit her lower lip, only for a second, but it was enough to crack the facade, for Will to see she was nervous—and also bloody adorable. Christ, he had to stop looking at her like this. A lunch meeting would do them good. They could relax, clear the air, and set new parameters from this day forth. Their relationship would be nothing but professional. It had to be, because she was already driving him mad. He could take the first part of the morning to regroup, make a few phone calls to potential sponsors for the fashion show, and then—lunch. He could keep it together for lunch.
    “Lunch sounds lovely,” he said, and Holly’s shoulders relaxed. He was glad to know she was just as nervous about seeing him today as he was to see her. And even better that she wanted to get things back on track, with her as the show’s director, him as the publicist, and that would be that.
    “Good,” Holly said. “That settles it. Oh, and make sure your afternoon is clear,