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

too.” The lift stopped at the tenth floor, and the doors opened into Trousseau’s lobby, so they both stepped out.
    “My afternoon?” Will was lost again.
    Holly nodded, all confidence back in her stance, and Will had to force himself not to let his eyes dip to those legs again.
    “Yes. I told Andrea I’m going to show you a few window displays on Michigan Avenue to give you an idea of what I’m aiming at for the show. Since the show will be Ms. Chan’s spring line, I thought it couldn’t hurt to check out what draws the Chicago fashionista’s eye.”
    She had already taken a step toward her side of the office while he was poised in the direction of his.
    “Yes. Of course. I had a phone call scheduled, but I think I can ring them tomorrow.”
    Lunch he could handle. But an afternoon walking the streets of the city with Holly? It sounded wonderful and terrifying all at the same time.
    Her lips dipped into a small frown as he watched her give him the once-over.
    “What?” He glanced down the line of his body. “Did I spill coffee on my tie? What is it?”
    Her concern quickly changed to a giggle as she shook her head.
    “No, it’s not that. It’s just, I didn’t plan this very well. I always have a change of clothes at my desk, just in case, but I don’t think you’ll be comfortable walking for hours in a three-piece suit and wingtips.”
    His lips curved in a grin. He had a secret stash, too, his weekend bag, just in case he needed to jet home in an emergency or if there was an opportunity to fly home early to surprise Sophie. His bag had been there, packed and ready to go last Wednesday when Andrea broke the news he’d have to stay in Chicago for the weekend. The memory of that set his mind straight, and although he knew he’d need a lot more than a simple reminder to keep his thoughts on home rather than here, it was a start.
    “I’ll be fine,” was all he said. She didn’t need a long, drawn-out explanation. “Meet here around noon.”
    “Noon it is, Mr. Evans.” And there was a tease in the lilt of her voice. But then her face grew serious for a second as she said, “And Will?” Her hand fidgeted with the zipper of the small red bag slung across her torso.
    “Yeah?”
    “I’m sorry you missed the weekend with your daughter.” There was genuine sadness in her voice, and his breath caught at the sound of it. Without waiting for a response, Holly spun on her heel and headed toward her desk.
    A throat cleared to his right, startling Will from the stupor Holly had just put him in. When he spun toward the sound, he was greeted by Jackie, the front desk assistant, and her toothy grin.
    “Good morning, Jackie,” Will said, straightening his already straight tie before heading toward his office.
    “Good morning, Mr. Evans ,” she said, parroting Holly teasing him with use of his surname.
    She said nothing else, and he didn’t let the assuming tone bother him, whatever it was she was thinking. Because nothing was going on between him and Holly Chandler.
    Nothing other than a kiss and the image of her stepping into that lift burned into his brain—along with the memory of Holly unplugged, the one who loved the stars as much as Sophie did, who could relax and enjoy a pitcher of stout at a neighborhood pub. The one he’d love to know better if she lived a little closer and maybe worked a little less.
    No, nothing was going on between them. Nothing at all. Will just had to keep repeating that to himself. Hopefully by lunch he’d believe it.

Chapter Eleven
    Holly hid behind her menu, wishing Kingston Ale House was fancy enough for daily specials, a reason for her to have to study the text more carefully. But the food menu only changed if something wasn’t selling. All Jamie cared about were his brews. Still, Holly kept reading, just in case she wasn’t sure if there really was parmesan cheese on the truffle fries—or if the cheese fondue for the hot pretzels was a beer fondue. Of course it