"Whoa, no! No." He shook his head. "None of that is true, okay? Well, the flirting is true, but I did not hook up with McKenna."
"I saw you with her."
Archer frowned. "McKenna is under the impression that we are getting back together, but that will never, ever happen."
"Oh," I said, needing to sit down for a moment. My legs shook, and Archer put a hand on my waist and guided me to a chair.
"Are you all right?"
"It's just hot in here," I said. Archer went to the bar and poured me a drink. Bringing it over, he held it to my lips, cupping my chin. "I'm fine," I said, feeling dumb. "Sorry for overreacting and for painting you like a stalker."
"I don't think I've ever had a woman pay that much attention to me before," he said. "I kind of like it."
Archer pulled a chair out and turned it, straddling it. I forced myself not to stare at his crotch.
"Trying to sneak a peek at my paintbrush?" he teased. "Do I need to sit the other way? I can go get a fig leaf to cover up."
"You would need a pretty big fig leaf," I said before I could stop myself.
His grin was predatory.
"Because fig leaves are actually on the smaller size," I amended hastily, trying and failing to not be creepy. "They might cover a smaller man just fine, but I think you need an above-average fig leaf." I made a face.
"No complaints here, Hazel. You can talk about the size of my paintbrush any day," Archer said, resting his chin on his hand. My eyes dipped down, traversing the length of his body.
"I need you to concentrate, Hazel," he said, his voice low. "The fate of my company rests in your hands."
Archer pulled out his phone and showed me the presentation for the design for the Mast Brothers' chocolate factory.
"You're putting in a food hall?" I asked excitedly. "That's really cool. I like the design for the signage and the way you integrated the landscaping into the existing industrial elements."
"The city doesn't seem to like it. We were told that the design had no human touch. So can you do something like this, but nice, like the painting you made of me?"
I did want to paint the factory. An excuse to do a painting in the style I loved and get paid for it? Yes, please. Except…
"Why should I help you after you were mean to me?" I countered.
"You help me, I help you," Archer said. "You want that art trail? My brothers aren't going to pay for squat if I don't win this factory. So, what do you say, Hazel, one boss to another? You want to do business?"
I did want to win that Art Zurich grant, and Archer was offering to pay. Beggars couldn't be choosers. I wasn't sleeping with him or anything. Meg would understand. It was just business.
"How much are you going to pay me?" I asked, hoping I sounded like a self-assured boss babe.
Archer shrugged. "We'll pay whatever you ask. Within reason, of course. Greg's already mad at me."
"Ten thousand?" I said.
Archer didn't even blink. "Done."
"And materials," I added.
"Double done."
He reached out his hand to shake. It was firm and strong and large. I wondered what it would be like to have that hand other places, sliding down my back, in my panties.
I stomped on the thought. Archer was now technically my client. Professional women shouldn't sleep with their clients even if they really wanted to.
"Celebratory drink?" I asked, standing up in what I hoped was a sultry motion. Except I almost fell to the floor when my leg got tangled up in the wrought-iron chair leg.
