A smile blooms on her kissable lips. “Thank you.” She bats her eyelashes in a coquettish way.
She’s all sunshine again.
Harley’s chat with her best friend didn’t lift her mood from last night. She was still closed off. Since I’d promised Grazie Mille’s owner I’d drop by the restaurant after yesterday’s scare to make sure the brunch service would go smoothly, I was sitting in the back of a taxi by nine a.m., heading to Manhattan. Even if I had stayed home, I doubt Harley would’ve opened up. I hired a chauffeured car to pick her up and drive her to Grazie Mille. When I slipped into the back seat, my heart stopped for several beats before kicking back to life.
Dressed in white, she’s an angel.
Draped in red, she’s a femme fatale.
“Like last night’s dress––and everything else you bought me from Saks––it’s beautiful.” She brushes her blonde hair curled in loose waves off her shoulders. “Since I’m not tall, I always worried midi dresses would dwarf me, but Judith assured me it was all about the cut. She promised an A-line would elongate my body. She was right. This red lace dress with appliqué does exactly that.”
The scarlet color makes her hair and eyes pop.
My favorite part is the bodice of the dress. Damn, I want to remove those thin straps with my teeth. “Judith knows her stuff.”
She nods. “And the strappy nude heels she recommended complement the dress.” She extends a foot, showcasing dainty toes painted red.
Red dress. Red lips. Red nails.
The lady in red is a vision––as breathtaking as a timeless movie star.
An image of Harley wearing nothing but those heels on her feet as her legs dangle over my shoulders as I drive into her pussy, flashes in front of my eyes.
Fuck.
I shake my head, dislodging the inappropriate thought.
Her brows knit together. “There’s no red carpet. No photographers. I gather today’s luncheon is more low-key than last night’s dinner.”
“The owner of the building vetoed it,” I say. “The gathering of crowds would block 5th Avenue, which would require police officers to be present on the premises. It’s a big pain in the butt. The photographers will be hanging out on the rooftop. The photo ops are better up there, anyway.”
“I can’t wait,” she says. “You know the owner of the building? Is he a hockey fan or a customer at one of your restaurants?”
“You’ll never guess which is his favorite Creamy Heavens ice cream flavor.”
Her cheeks flush, competing with her dress. “You’re pulling my leg.”
I shake my head. “Logan Ellison buys half a dozen pints of Harley’s Java Jolt at a time.”
Her eyes are huge.
“I met him through the business club I’m a member of.”
“The same high rollers club you met Max Keller at, who enlisted your help to assist Grazie Mille’s owner.”
I arch a brow. “Someone’s been paying attention.”
“As your social media manager and public relations liaison, I’d be doing a shitty job if I wasn’t on top of things.”
“Told you, you’d knock my socks off, Goldilocks.” I wink.
Her blush deepens.
“Turns out Logan is a hardcore hockey fan,” I say. “That played in my favor. He had no problem with me picking his brain as I was upgrading Number 22.”
She nods. “It’s good to have friends in high places.”
“I won’t argue with that,” I say. “Logan’s vision for this location put it on the map. The Fifth offers a unique experience you’re unlikely to find on any other rooftop in the city.”
