I’d never clapped eyes on the woman.

In other words, I was dying to meet her.

My heels clicked on the floor as I made my way to Danny, my attention moving to him, to see his gaze focused not on my jeans, not on my silky button-down top, but on my feet. And his lips were tipped up in a sexy way that made me wonder if my adjustments to my ensemble from lunch to now were for him, or for me.

I had to look away when I came abreast with Boone, who seemed to be leaving.

“I have words to say to you,” I told him, stopping as my way to indicate he should stop so I could read him about spending time with some other woman who was not Ryn.

“Later, babe, I got an assignment,” he probably lied (or maybe not), bent, kissed my cheek, then took off.

I turned to watch him go.

Or, more aptly, I turned to glare at his back as he left.

“You can’t escape me forever, Boone Sadler!” I called.

He lifted a hand but didn’t look back.

Fucking commandos.

When the door closed behind him, I pivoted smartly and walked (okay, maybe stomped) the rest of the way to Danny.

He greeted me by sliding an arm around my waist and murmuring, “Babe.”

“Babe,” I said back.

He silently chuckled. I knew this when his mouth curled, and his long torso shook.

I looked to Hawk. “Hey, Hawk.”

“Evan, hey,” Hawk greeted. “This is my wife, Gwen, and my girl,” he put his hand on the dark head of the little one clinging to his thigh, “Vivi.”

“Hey,” I said to Gwen.

“Heya, Evan,” she replied.

I looked down to Vivi.

“Hi there.”

She was peeking under long dark lashes, cheek pressed to her father’s thick thigh, and up close, I saw her cheeks were pink, her eyes looked tired, but they were riveted to my feet.

“I like your shoes,” she mumbled.

“That’s my girl,” Gwen cooed.

“Someone kill me,” Hawk muttered.

I smiled.

Danny’s arm around me grew tighter.

“She’s not feeling well. Maybe flu. It’s going around,” Gwen told me.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” I replied.

“So, not being rude, I’ve been hoping to meet you, but we have to go. Though, before we do, I’m glad I have you, because Elvira’s doing boards,” she said.

I perked up.

“You don’t want to miss them,” she went on.

Oh my God!

Was this an invitation?

“I’ve heard about these boards,” I shared, trying not to pant with excitement. “And what I heard is I definitely don’t want to miss them.”

“Well, you have to come around. Next Tuesday?” she asked.

“Totally,” I answered, and okay, it came out breathily, but Gwen didn’t seem to notice.

She just said, “Awesome,” before she turned, leaned into her husband, put her hand on (the wall of) his chest, pushed up on her toes and touched her mouth to his. She then whispered a different kind of “Awesome” that made his eyes gleam, my toes curl and Danny silently chuckle again.

I looked down to Vivi. “I hope to see you again when you’re feeling better.”

“Me too. Maybe I can try on your shoes,” she replied.

“You aren’t wearing shoes like those until you’re fifty,” Hawk decreed.

She tipped her head back and pouted, “Daddy!”

He hefted her up into his arms and she immediately seemed a lot less sulky.

“Evan,” he said to me, tipped his chin up to Mag, took his wife’s hand in his free one, and started down the steps with his daughter’s booty held in the curve of his arm, her little arms wrapped around his muscled neck.

“See you Tuesday, and cool to finally meet you,” Gwen said to me while following them (or, more apropos, being dragged on her own pair of high heels by her husband).

“You too and can’t wait.”

They barely made the bottom floor when Danny had my hand in his and I was being dragged, this down the row to his workstation.

When he got us there, he twisted his mesh-seated rolling chair, sat in it and then drew me between his open knees.

“Seriously?” he asked.

“What?” I asked back.

“Babe, you walking in here in those shoes, this morning’s blowjob seems like it happened a decade ago.”

I tipped my head to the side and grinned at him, deciding the long-awaited maiden voyage of my red sandals was a success.

“You come here just to make me hard or is there some other purpose to this visit?” he asked. “Wait,” he went on quickly. “Belated preface to that, you can show anytime you want, wearing hot sex shoes or your usual beat-up sneakers, I don’t give a fuck.”

God, this guy was easy to love.

“I picked up the mail when I got home from having lunch with Sidney,” I shared. “And the present I ordered for you came. Since I got it for your workstation, and I had a free afternoon, I thought I’d bring it in.”

His brows were up, and he asked, “Present?”

I dug in my bag, pulled it out and handed it to him.

When he saw what it was, he looked even more confused, until he took it and turned the writing around so he could read it.

Then he busted out laughing.

I pretended to be miffed even though I was not.

From the very beginning, I loved making him laugh.

“You think that title is funny?” I asked.

I barely got the last word out before he tugged sharply on my hand and I landed in his lap.

He held me in the curve of one arm even as he rotated us and leaned forward, taking me with him, doing this to set the old-fashioned, aluminum-framed plaque with its slide-in plate in faux wood with wording on it at the head of his workstation.

It said in white, #1 BOYFRIEND, and under that, DANIEL JAROD MAGNUSSON.

I watched as he adjusted it so it was centered perfectly, and I thought he was joking around until he titched it just a centimeter.

That was when I looked at his face to see he was genuinely concentrating on what he was doing like the perfect placement of that plaque was of the utmost importance.

“Danny,” I whispered.

He lifted those crazy-gorgeous eyes with those fabulously amazing eyelashes to me.

“Won’t move it, baby, until that title changes and you get me a new one.”

Shit.

I was going to cry.

He saw it.

So he tipped his head further back, I got his message…

And kissed him.

I broke it with my hand cradling his jaw, but I didn’t move very far away.

“Are we allowed to make out at your workstation?” I asked.

“No.”

I gave him a small smile.

“Are you gonna get shit for your plaque?” I asked.

“Totally,” he answered.

The smile on my lips died, but that didn’t mean the happiness was gone.

“You don’t care, do you?” I whispered.

“Not even a little bit,” he whispered back.

“All my life, you know?”

“All your life what, baby?”

“Until you.”

He curved both arms around me and his voice was growly when he asked, “Until me, what?”