Page 104 of Flirting with 40

“Maybe I need other things to feel satisfied.”

“Are you implying I didn’t deliver? We howled at the moon, Foxx,” he teases.

“Maybe I need to try out the goods again to be sure.”

This. This is what I need. The sexy banter. The playful flirting. This is what makes me feel like us again . . . not that there is an us, but it’s normal for us.

“How about Friday night? Does that work for you?”

I close my eyes and smile to the empty room. “Yes. Friday sounds good.”

“Should we meet up after you get off work? We could go to Metta’s and actually eat there or—”

“After work is fine.”

“I’m sorry.” His chuckle rumbles across the connection. “I’m taking over when this is supposed to be your date. Tell me what you want to do and I’ll make sure it happens. Hell, you’re the new take-charge Blakely, so I’ll let you take charge and shut my mouth.”

“No. It’s fine. I don’t mind. How about we meet at Metta’s, have a couple of drinks, and then I’ll figure out somewhere to go after that?”

“So, you’re going to surprise me?”

“Something like that,” I say. “How about seven o’clock? Is that too late?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Okay, then.”

Silence clings to the line because I don’t want the call to end. There’s something about him on the line that makes the day all that much better.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you, Blakely.”

“Me too.”

“Until then.”

And when the call ends, when the quiet of the empty office building settles around me, there is a smile on my lips and a pocket full of hope building within that maybe . . . just maybe, Slade and I can try our hand at whatever this is.

Still, I feel like a fraud because the new take-charge Blakely would have just told him how much I want there to be more than just a celebratory dinner.

She would have told him she wants that last task on the to-do list.

She would have laid it all on the line.

There’s always Friday night.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Blakely

“Huge bouquet of flowers for one Miss Foxx,” Minka says as she carries a vase filled with peonies into my office.

“Huh,” I say as I move over to them and pluck the card out of its holder.

“Who are they from?” She all but dances on her toes.

“No idea.” But I do know. At least the giddy female part of me thinks I do. I open the card, and my heart sighs as it swoons.

To Blakely,