Sullivan’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out.
“My lawyer’s here,” he announces, falling into business mode. “I’d appreciate it if you and Molly stayed in the living area while I meet with him.”
“Of course,” I say, grinning at Molly as she takes my hand and tugs me from the room.
The man who Sullivan lets in appears in the living area a few moments later. He seems to be in his late thirties, and despite a designer suit that fits him almost as well as Sullivan’s does, his demeanor couldn’t be any more different.
“Hello.” He makes a beeline for me after greeting Molly and extends his hand with a friendly smile. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
My cheeks heat as he closes both of his hands around mineand pumps it enthusiastically, his eyes roaming my face like he’s admiring every inch of it.
“Jones, this is Tate. Tate, this is my lawyer, Jones,” Sullivan clips, moving to stand at my side, so close that the heat of his body rolls off him and seeps toward mine.
Jones grins. “Tate,” he repeats. “Lovely to meet you. How long have you two been dating?”
The choked sound that comes from Sullivan’s throat makes me snap my eyes to his face.
“We’re not dating,” he balks. “She’s here to help with Molly.”
“My mistake,” Jones says, not looking at all shocked by Sullivan’s reaction.
Meanwhile, I dampen down a surge of offense heating the blood in my veins, and picture punching him in his rude mouth. So I’m not an actress or a model. I don’t look smooth and polished like Cara, and all the other people he’s surrounded by in his fancy over-the-top offices. But he doesn’t need to be a jerk.
“Caffeine Couture,” Jones hums thoughtfully, reading the logo on my shirt. “That’s the place next door to the office on Fifth Avenue, right?”
“It is.” I smile back brightly for no other reason than Jones talking to me seems to be making Sullivan tenser.
“Hmm. I need a new place to grab a coffee when I’m in the area. I’ll have to swing by.”
“You should,” I tell him. “We make the best.”
“I’m sure you do.” He winks.
The sharp intake of breath next to me makes my smile stretch, which Jones seems to interpret as a response to his flirting.
“So nice to meet you, Tate,” he says, eyes dropping to the logo on my shirt again. “I’ll be sure to come in and taste that coffee of yours.”
“Contracts,” Sullivan barks, stepping forward and placing himself between Jones and I. He gestures to a large dining table on the other side of the expansive room. Jones walks ahead of him, placing his briefcase on the table and snapping open the locks on it.
“I won’t be long,” Sullivan says, lowering his voice as he looks at Molly, happily sitting on the thick cream rug, talking to one of her baby dolls.
“It’s fine. We’ll be okay.”
He frowns, and a fleeting look passes over his features, like he doesn’t want to leave, despite the fact he isn’t going into his home office, but has chosen to stay in the same room as us. Something I suspect he planned, not yet trusting me to be out of his sight with his daughter. But his protectiveness only makes me sympathize with him.
“We’ll be okay. I’ll look after her,” I soothe, placing my hand over the forearm of his jacket without thinking.
He stiffens, his eyes dropping to my hand. I whip it away and tuck it behind me like he might rip it off if I don’t.
“Sorry.” I swallow, not quite understanding why I’m apologizing, but knowing I must have crossed some invisible line judging from the way his eyes are trained on mine like fierce lasers.
“I won’t be long,” he repeats, before spinning on his heels and striding over to Jones.
Molly and I play with her dollies while the two men discuss the pages of paperwork covering the table. But the time passes quickly and they’re soon packing up.
Jones walks past with his briefcase.
“Bye, Molly. Nice to meet you, Tate,” he says, glancing at my shirt logo again. “I’ll come in for that coffee soon.”
