Welcome back. I hope you’re feeling better. Let’s get to work. – Ro
She looked up, found him watching from across the hall, and shook her head with a smile. He raised his coffee mug in a mock toast.
A moment later, she crossed the hall and slipped inside his office. Her perfume hit him first—floral, warm, familiar, the same scent that made his dick jump anytime he inhaled it.
He stood when she walked in, moving closer to see if she’d flinch or play him off like she had been. She didn’t.
“Morning,” he said, keeping his voice even.
“Thank you for my flowers,” she said, gesturing back toward her office. “They’re beautiful. You have good taste, Mr. Pracher,” she said, eyes steady. But he caught the quick flicker, her gaze dropping to his arms when he adjusted his watch.
“You should already know that. I’m on your bumper, ain’t I?”
“Should I feel special?”
He shrugged. “How are you feeling?”
“A million times better. Thanks again for taking care of me and giving me the day off.”
“Anytime.” His eyes tracked over her face, her neck, the way that dress fit her. “You ready for your first day ?”
She met his gaze, steady. “I’ve been ready, just had a little hiccup.”
She stopped in the doorway and turned around.
“We’ll see.”
“Is this coming from the man who was late to the plane and late to my shoot in LA?” She tilted her head.
He opened his mouth.
“I thought so. I’ll see you in five minutes, Mr. Pracher.”
She was already gone before he could respond.
She made it to the bathroom in the nick of time — Little LA had been sitting on her bladder since the drive over. She washed her hands, checked her reflection, and made sure nothing in her face gave her away.
Professional. Composed. Fine.
She crossed back into his doorway five minutes later.
“Shall we?” she asked, all business.
“We shall. What’s up first?”
“The interview with Hot 93.5,” Kennedi said as they walked out the door. “Riya’s hosting, and she’s… curious about you.”
He slowed a step, brows pulling together. “Curious? What that mean?” He looked at her hard. “I don’t fuck with surprises.”
“It means,” she said, giving him a sharp side-eye, “she wasn’t only asking about Customs or Idle Hands. She was asking aboutyou. What you’re like, what you’re into. And I know the difference between prep questions and somebody fishing.”
“So she was flirting?” He glanced at Kennedi, reading her face. Women wanting him wasn't new. He'd been fine and paid long enough to know what that looked like — Riya wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. Tahlia had pulled the same moves, and look how that ended. Last he heard, she'd found somebody else, already pregnant, moving fast. Women chasing the lifestyle always landed somewhere.
What was new was Kennedi giving a damn about it.
Kennedi folded her arms. “Mr. Pracher, yes, she was fishing, flirting... whatever. It wasn’t professional, that’s for sure.”
He studied her, lips twitching, holding back a laugh. Then the smirk came. “Mm. You sure this is about the job, Ken? You sound jealous.”
