His lips are still pink and plump and so kissable.
And thoseeyes.
A deep, emerald green, twinkling with mischief as he—
"Herring," he says again, clearing his throat, and my mouth is suddenly so dry. I just checked this man out for a solid minute, in the most slow-motion, movie-esq, mouth-watering way possible, and he looks amused. Like he knew every inappropriate thought that was running through my mind.
"Harley," I repeat myself with a smile, hoping he hasn’t realized that I just pictured him doing R-rated things to me. "Whenever I thought about you over the years, I never pictured you looking like…this."
Why am I allowed to speak?
"You’ve thought about me, Herring?" he asks, tilting his head with a smirk, revealing the lone dimple on his right cheek that I’d forgotten about.
Closing the gap between us, he pulls me in for a hug, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m the reason it dragged on for longer than it should have. My heart is beating erratically in my chest, and I hope more than anything that he can’t feel it against his.
He laughs, releasing me from his arms, and I already miss the smell of sandalwood and vanilla that radiated through me.
How is he even hotter than I remember?
"What brings you home?" he asks, gesturing for me to walk alongside him, and I do exactly that while doing my best to keep up with his long strides.
He’s aged like fine wine, looking hot as hell in his business suit.
Meanwhile, I’m dressed like I just came from a bar. At least I changed out of my travel clothes, I guess.
Silver linings.
Running my hands down my hair to smooth out any fly aways, I wonder where to start.
"I heard there was a new owner in town. I had to come and see for myself," I say with a smile. I don’t want to seem too forward about wanting a job, so I decide to not mention it.
"I have about forty minutes until my next meeting. Have you eaten?" He doesn’t slow his pace as he leads us toward the restaurant I walked past earlier.
"I have, but I guess I could pick at a bowl of fries." I know we’re old friends catching up, and are both fully grown adults, but I’m nervous.I don’t think I’ve ever even seen someone as hot as Harley Wingrove in real life, let alone had lunch with them, and it’s doing all kinds of things to my lady bits.
The restaurant is beautiful. He’s done a wonderful job with the interior and exterior of this place.
It’s daylight outside, but you could never tell.
The restaurant windows are tinted so dark, that they block out any hint of natural light. The hanging light pendants slightly glow, creating a breathtaking, romantic setting. It’d be the perfect place for a date. No matter the time of day.
This isn’t a date, Cassandra. It’s strictly business. You’re here for a job.
"How have you been?" he asks as he pulls my chair out for me before he sits in his own.
Such a gentleman.
Setting our menus to the side, he pours us both a glass of water, but his eyes never break contact with mine.
How do I say, "the last two months have been the worst two months of my life, so I packed up everything I own into a truck and moved back in with my parents because I found out my boyfriend of fourteen years, your ex-best-friend, had been having an affair and got another girl pregnant, so I’m not doing all that great,"without actually telling him any of that?
I’m not here to talk about my personal life.I’m here for a job. If my brain could send that message to my body, that would be great. Otherwise, I’ll never get what I came for.
Instead of going into detail, I keep it simple with, "I’ve been great."
Placing my paper straw in between my lips, I take a sip of water and I don’t miss the way his eyes linger on my mouth, either.
Clenching his jaw, he nods, shifting in his chair slightly before opening his menu.
