“But just this once,” I continued, wanting to fluster him as much as he flustered me, “I’ll make an exception. Weddings in the City does pride itself on our impeccable customer service.”
“You don’t have to.”
I slid my hand down the lapel of Evan’s suit jacket to his belt then to his pants pocket, satisfied when he twitched slightly as I slipped my fingers inside it.
“Uh, Ivy, that is”—he visibly swallowed—“not the pocket I put the check in.”
“Oh?” I looked up at him innocently then wiggled my fingers in his pants pocket. “Funny. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Usually I just space out whenever you talk and think about being literally anywhere else with literally anyone else.”
Evan narrowed his eyes and handed me the check. “I think I can make you like me. In fact, I think I can make you so obsessed with me that you literally cannot function.”
“Never gonna happen,” I told him as I opened another door in his kitchen, which was bigger than my entire condo and that he never used and clearly did not deserve. I pulled out a broom and headed back to the dining room.
“I’ll do it,” Evan said, reaching for the broom.
“You? The person who never cleans? I wouldn’t want you to mess up your nice suit,” I told him as I picked up the larger flowers from the floor then started sweeping up the glass and leaves. “Have you ever worked an honest day in your life, or do you just move money around, attend dinner parties, and golf with your buddies?” I asked him.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Judgmental, I don’t golf with my buddies. We play polo and compare expensive Scotch collections.”
“Wow!” I rolled my eyes. “You’re really contributing to society.”
“From the woman who plans extravagant and unnecessary weddings, that’s pretty rich,” Evan retorted, throwing paper towels onto the floor. “And for your information, women who are not cynical and jaded find me very impressive,” he added as I scooped the mess onto the dustpan.
Before I could pick it up, Evan grabbed it. “I’ll prove it to you,” he said. “Come on.”
“Oh, by throwing away some trash?” I said. “That’s the bare minimum of being a functional human being.”
“I think the bare minimum is to get it up in bed, but what do I know?”
“Yeah, what doyouknow?”
Evan tossed the trash into the bin under the sink.
“What do I know?” he said, turning abruptly.
There were inches between us, and I backed up into the kitchen counter.
“I know I am going to impress you greatly.” He leaned over me.
“Impress me how?” I squeaked.
He leaned closer. Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to?
Yes.
No! Of course not.
He leaned close then reached for me. My heart yammered.
Actually, wait, he was reaching around me. Evan picked up a tablet on the counter, smirking. Then he wrapped one hand around my waist and ushered me into the living room area, which was separated from the kitchen by the long wooden table.
“Behold! My stuff!” Evan gestured to a large expanse of wall that held several abstract paintings.
“Your art?” I wrinkled my nose. “I’ve seen better. I have had several clients who are big art collectors.”
“Yes,” Evan said impatiently, swiping on the tablet, “but do they have this?”
He tapped the screen, and the wallswhooshedapart, revealing a layer of glass. I peered as Evan tapped another button. Spotlights inside the hidden room, lit up revealing several million dollars’ worth of sports cars.
