Yes, my mom—the librarian—named me for one of her favorite childhood books. She’d been convinced I was a boy and readJames and the Giant Peachto me while I was in the womb. She still went with the name when they said I was a girl.
“I always thought it washer, so that’s what it is to me—”
I cut him off. “You always had to be right.”
He leaned back against my door, ankles crossed, Gucci loafers on his feet, broad smirk on his face, with a gray suit, a black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and cufflinks on his sleeves peeking out. His dirty blond hair was somewhat combed and pushed off his forehead, his blue eyes focused on me. He was gorgeous and unnerving in ways I couldn’t define. My heart raced and ached in equal measure at the sight of him.
“I popped up to let you know I’ll be taking you to lunch.”
“What?” I stood up, realizing I was still sitting in my chair like an easy and willing target.
“Lunch. You. Me.”
“I can’t,” I said, sucking in my stomach before leaning back into the desk, mimicking his stance.
It might be an act, but I wasn’t letting Ford see how he got to me.
“I’m downstairs with my mom, and she was mentioning wanting to do something for the wing. Lucky for her, I told her I would handle it. She’s over the moon I’m taking an interest in the charity shit.”
“Of course she is. She’s probably on the phone with every news outlet as we speak, letting them know you’re getting involved.”
“Not her,” he said on the move, coming close to me. “Her assistant, for sure.”
Tilting my head back, I blew out a long breath. I’d forgotten how infuriating Ford Conway could be when he wanted something. He was a dog with a bone…or a…
“Like a shark is what they say in Hollywood.” He was so close I could feel his breath as he said it.
“What are you going on about?” I feigned indifference to his cologne and personal musk. His perfect mouth made for kissing…
“You were mumbling something about a dog with a bone. I was telling you that in my town they say I’m like a shark. I possess awesome power and quick wit,” he boasted.
“Some may say you’re cunning,” was my retort.
“Not when it comes to you. My intention is pure. I want to spend time with you, and I’m going to.” His hand cupped my cheek as he spoke. His eyes bore down on me, and I knew one hundred percent he could hear my heart galloping in my chest.
“I’m at work,” I mustered the courage to say.
Ford stepped back and my cheek felt like it had been slapped with a snowball—my skin was freezing where his palm had been keeping me warm.
“Lunch. The French place down the street. My driver will take us. Noon.” He pivoted on his heel and walked out the door, saying, “You can mark Ms. Silver out for lunch, Ashley.”
I saw her flick a key on her computer as she did as he said.
“I’m still your boss,” I said from the same perch on my desk.
She nodded but didn’t look back, her gaze focused on Ford’s ass as he waited for the elevators.
“Conway, table for two,” Ford said to the hostess as soon as we entered Petit Pear.
He’d been standing outside my office two minutes before noon, pacing, and I’d made him wait.
At one minute after, I shut my laptop and strolled out.
“You changed your shoes,” was the first thing he said.
I had swapped my ballet flats for red-bottomed heels. It was a well-earned armor I needed today, but I wasn’t admitting that to him.
“I wear those to walk around the hospital,” I explained, regarding my flats. It was a lie, and his little wink let me know he knew so.
