I smile at him, batting my eyelashes. “I’m good. My pet turtle, Speckles, kept me up last night. I’m a little tired but not overly so.”
My mention of Speckles was intentional, hoping it would jog free a memory of our chat in the bar that night.
He blinks at me, studying my face. “I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe you should find a new place to live.”
What an odd thing to say.
“Umm, well, wherever I live, Speckles will live too.”
His gaze dips down over me for a brief moment before he nods, easing past me to enter his office.
“Right. I need you to call Caesar and make sure we’re booked for Tahiti.”
He’s going to Tahiti?
“Tahiti?”
He looks back at me as he sips from the cup. “Yes.”
Remain calm. He wouldn’t take you to Tahiti for a first date.
“Okay . . . why Tahiti? Who’s Caesar?”
I’ve seen the number in my computer, but I haven’t had to contact him before now. He opens his laptop on the desk.
“Caesar is my jet pilot. Tahiti is where Fallon’s wedding is.”
Oh, shit, I somehow keep forgetting this man comes from a billion-dollar empire. Of course he’s taking a jet to his sister’s wedding...in Tahiti.
I swallow as I nod my head, “Right, of course. I’ll call him.”
I turn to walk out, halting at the threshold right before I leave the office. “I was wondering...since this is a beach-themed wedding, are we going, like...barefoot in the sand?”
He told me to get a dress, but I haven’t really prepared myself for the level of fancy this party is sure to be. The most expensive dress I’ve ever bought was for prom, and I felt frivolous, spending one hundred eighty-five dollars of my dad’s hard-earned cash on it at Martin’s Bridal.
“You should probably talk to Fallon about it. No one is going to be barefoot,” he says.
I just stare at him, not believing that he wants me to ask the supermodel bride—his sister—what I should wear toherwedding. I’d rather go naked.
“Okay...thanks.” I smile awkwardly, turning around to return to my desk.
“Miss Dawson?”
Would it be so hard to call me Kate, or does he genuinely not know my name?
“Yes, sir?”
His eyes darken at my words, flashing to my lips for a second before returning to my eyes. “Sit.”
I obey the order on instinct. My feet carry me to the black leather chair in front of his desk, and I sink down in anticipation. If he told me to bend over this desk and hike up my skirt, I’d already have my ass in the air. My core clenches as the visual forms in my mind.
His eyes are focused on the monitor in front of him for another few moments before turning to me.
“Miss Dawson, you’ve worked here for over a week, but I feel like I barely know you.”
“What do you want to know?” I try to keep my voice casual, but it’s difficult.
He’s so pretty . . .and single.
