“I keep a list of things people need us to pick up at Marden’s and go get everything at the end of the week,” Nate said in a business voice. “Can one of you handle that?”
“I got it.” She wroteshopping atMarden’sunderBoathouse. Evidently, Avery still lived by to-do lists.
“Do y’all have a computerized reservation system or is it all on the board?” she asked.
“Just the board,” Nate said. “Guests love that thing, but it has limitations. I know I need to…”
As Nate prattled on, Miles watched Avery roll her pen back and forth across her lower lip in thought. Miles couldn’t take his gaze off her pink, pouty mouth. She bit the cap. Lucky pen. He’d missed her playful nibbles and those mint-lip-balm kisses. Maybe she tasted more sophisticated now. Something like tea. Sweet tea. With mint. What he wouldn’t give to find out just how delicious her kiss had become.
Blood pulsed through him as a heat centered between his legs. He wanted her the second this Zoom ended. Here. On the conference room table.
His phone buzzed, and he paid it no mind. For a brief second, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Under the table, a weight landed in his lap. The weight moved. Was that her foot massaging him? His eyes flew open to find Avery adding another item to her list. A snort followed by a quick, dog double-sneeze brought him back to reality. Miles looked down to discover Casper’s white muzzle rooting around in his crotch. He hadn’t heard the dog get up.
“Dammit, Casper!” he yelped, and pushed away from the table.
His chair rolled into the wall and Casper emerged, tail wagging. Miles caught the dog’s mocking sideways glance.
“You’re a menace, Casper.” Miles pointed at him.
Nate burst out laughing. “Man, the look on your face before you leftthe frame. Priceless.”
“Miles!” Avery chided him as she clapped for Casper to come over to her. “Don’t yell at him. Dogs feel shame.”
“He’s untrained,” Miles growled as his phone buzzed again. The phone could wait. Right now, his sweater glistened with dog slobber. “He used me as his own personal Kleenex.”
“It’s not your fault, Casper.” Avery kissed the dog’s head. “Miles’s clothes can easily be mistaken for tissues.”
Avery remembering his soft clothes would feel like a victory if she weren’t kissing the dog whose drool covered his abdomen.
“Well, it’s not my fault.” Miles glared at her. “And I can’t wear this dog snotfest.”
Avery raised an eyebrow. He took the accompanying stifled laugh as a challenge, stood, and lifted the hem of his sweater.
“Lighten up.” Avery rolled her eyes. “Dog saliva is cleaner than human saliva. You basically got sprayed with hand sanitizer. It’ll dry.”
She’d chosen the dog. Over him. Forget being the nice guy Lily wanted him to be; he’d gleefully push every one of Avery’s damn buttons.
Holding her stare until the last possible second, he slowly removed his sweater. Cool air greeted his stomach as his T-shirt rose with it. He couldn’t see her reaction, but he had worked hard for this body, so he flexed his abs in case she compared this view to the one from her Google search.
When the sweater finally came off, Avery’s gaze was fixed on his hip, her pout now agape. Miles tensed. The firefly tattoo. He’d wanted to show it to her when he could explain. He reached down to lift the waistband of his jeans but accidentally pulled the elastic of his boxer briefs. If she’d missed the tattoo, she didn’t miss the Tom Ford logo.
She met his eyes, slowly closed her mouth and swallowed hard. Whatever she’d seen, she’d liked. He leveled his stare, raised an eyebrow, and slowly freed the hem of his tee from around his chest. Avery’s headfell to her drawing. His phone buzzed twice.
“Someone really needs to get in touch with you.” Avery didn’t look up. At least she’d drawn pine trees and not a demon.
Nate sighed. “Yeah Miles, maybe you should check your phone.”
Miles felt bad. Nate didn’t need this right now. He and Avery needed to stop making a fuss over trivial things like dog slobber and granite samples. The phone buzzed again. Despite his curiosity, he didn’t pick it up.
“Miles.” Avery tapped her pen on the table. “You’re swamped. Go back to New York. We have enough staff, and things haven’t changed much around here. I can run the front desk blindfolded.”
Blindfolded. What he wouldn’t give for a night with her and a blindfold. Oh, the things they could try. The pulsing heat returned, extinguishing any chance of him going back to New York.
“One person cannot replace Sam, Laurie, and Nate. I’m not sure two of us can, especially if we’re”—he took a chance and winked at her—“blindfolded.”
Avery tucked a tendril of loose hair behind her ear, touching the spot he used to kiss, her coy smile a sign her mind had gone to the same place.
He leaned across the table. If she wanted him to leave, he’d stay.
