I was the slightest, barest, itsy bit impressed, but I refused to let Evan see it.
“May I introduce m’lady to a small portion of my car collection? There’s a special car elevator that brings them up so I can look at them whenever I want.” He gazed at them indulgently.
“Yawn.”
“Lies!” Evan exclaimed. “You’re impressed.”
“Nope.” I turned back to the table and picked up my bag.
“Don’t you want to go for a ride?” Evan said, stepping up beside me.
“I have to work. We’re in the thick of wedding season.”
“I could drive you to your next appointment.”
“The number-one rule of being a wedding planner is don’t upstage the bride,” I told him. “If I showed up with someone like you in a car like that, I would lose my job.”
Evan smirked. “So you did like the cars—and the man, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Imighthave liked the cars, but definitely not the man,” I said, pushing the strap of my bag onto my shoulder.
Evan picked up the ruined bouquet from the table. “I have offered my best to her, yet she wounds me.” He tossed the flowers into the air, pretending to be shot.
“I don’t know how you function. And I just cleaned that floor!”
Evan picked up one of the flowers and sniffed it. “I don’t know what Imogen was complaining about. These smell nice. They smell like—” He sniffed again then leaned over to sniff my hair. “They kind of smell like you.”
He tucked the flower into my loose bun. Then he leaned down to whisper into my ear, “I’m going to plan something that is going to impress you so much, you’re going to scream my name.”
I stared at him wide-eyed.
“No, not like that, Ivy!” Evan said, pretending to be offended. “I mean it in an ‘Oh Evan, how interesting!’ way not an ‘Oh Evan, go harder!’ way.”
“You’re out of control!” I admonished.
Evan wrapped an arm around my waist, guiding me to the front door. “You’re the sex-starved one. Believe me, the strain isn’t good for your heart.”
As I walked out of his building, the thought hit me. Oh my god, were we actually flirting?
18
Evan
“The esteemed man of honor! How goes the wedding planning?”
“I’m not planning it,” I told Sebastian, shoving him out of my office chair.
“You were at the flower-arrangement meeting,” he said, shoving me right back.
“I was just there to make sure Imogen didn’t trash my apartment. Honestly, what is it with women and weddings? Why does it turn them into trolls?”
“Doesn’t your hedge fund own three of the biggest bridal magazines in the industry?”
“Yeah,” I complained, “but that doesn’t mean I know what’s going on. Just throw a barbeque, buy a few kegs, and hang out. Why does it have to be this huge production that brings out the absolute worst in people? Camilla, for example, used to be nice before the wedding happened.”
Sebastian wavered his hand.
“Okay, not nice but tolerable.”
