Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
My phone buzzed with a text from Kora.
Kora: Wear the black dress! It makes your boobs look good enough to eat with a spork!
I rolled my eyes at the text, but smiled.
Me: First... nobody uses sporks. Second. What? Third... I already have the black dress on, and shut up before you say what I know you're going to say.
Kora: You know I'm going to tell you to get that D?
If there was any doubt about what "D" she meant, the text was followed by an obscene number of eggplant and other related emojis to clear up the confusion.
Me: It's a business dinner, Kora. I'm not getting anybody's "D" tonight.
Kora: Then tell me what underwear you wore.
Me: I don't see how that's relevant.
Kora: Tell me.
Me: Fine. Red thong with matching lacy bra. So what?
Kora's response was a waterfall of cry laughing emoji's, eggplants, and fingers being poked through holes.
I grinned, but tapped out an annoyed response.
Me: I'm putting my phone on silent. You're a bad influence.
A single knock sounded at exactly eight.
I opened the door to find Orion looking good enough to lick in black jeans and a fitted shirt open at the collar. The sight of him in something other than a suit was doing very unprofessional things to my brain.
His eyes traveled over me appreciatively before he remembered himself. "You look...nice," he said, voice slightly rough.
"Thanks. You look...also nice." Smooth, Ember. Real smooth.
We exchanged awkward looks as we made our way down the elevator and out to the chilly city street, hardly saying more than a few words.
"So... do you usually escort your employees from their doorstep to company dinners?"
"When I'm already in town? Sure."
"You were in the area?" I asked.
"No," Orion admitted slowly. "Your building is close to my mom's place, but I had my driver bring me here from the office."
I smiled to myself. "So you're saying I'm special."
"I didn't say any such thing."
"You're implying it, then."
"I admire the work you do," he countered. "When I first met you delivering those hate notes, I suspected there was something extraordinary about you. You have a way of getting to people."
"Under their skin, you mean?" I asked with a self-deprecating smirk.
Orion frowned. "I mean you seem to have a way of connecting with people who prefer not to be connected with."
Now I was the one feeling off balance. "Like Mr. Davenport, you mean?"
Orion held my gaze for a meaningful moment, then gave a slight nod. "Sure. Like Mr. Davenport."
We talked about more harmless work topics as we continued walking toward the restaurant. The place was some trendy, upscale situation where the lighting was dim, the wine was expensive, and couples were canoodling in cozy booths. Very conducive to our totally professional working dinner.
We managed to keep up the facade of talking business through the appetizers, though I kept finding myself thinking about when we kissed at the art gallery every time our eyes met across the table. I also thought about the awkward drunken dinner at his place and the number of sexually charged moments we nearly shared at the office. By the time our server took away our appetizer plates and refilled our water glasses, I could hardly keep my mind on the conversation.
"So tell me," Orion said, leaning forward. "What exactly did you whisper to Davenport as you walked him out?"
"Oh, that." I toyed with the condensation on my water glass to keep from fanning myself. Even his curiosity was sexy.
What the hell had gotten into me tonight?
"He was telling me about his late wife," I said. "Apparently she used to bring him lunch at the rubber factory every day. That's why he never upgraded the break room, to keep it like it was when she was alive. He said he still goes in there sometimes and just sits to feel closer to her.”
Orion's face actually softened, making him even more devastatingly handsome. "Ember... I should tell you why we're actually trying to get Mr. Davenport's business."
"Because renovating three huge factories would be a big project... right?"
Something unreadable passed over Orion's face. Finally, he smiled slightly. "I suppose that's really the essence of it. Yes."
I tilted my head. "Why did you make it sound like there was more?"
He shook his head. "It's nothing you need to worry about for now."
"Okay," I said, frowning in confusion but shrugging the weirdness off. "Anyway, I wanted him to know we cared about the history and legacy, not just the property value."
"We?" His voice dropped an octave on the word.
"I mean, you. The company. Foster Real Estate." I took a too-big gulp of water so a few drops fell on my cleavage. I sputtered, leaning forward as I noticed Orion’s eyes locked on the drops of water slipping into the crevasse between my breasts.
I dabbed at myself with a napkin.
Orion cleared his throat, lifting his eyes to something above my face. “You had it right the first time,” he said. “We’re a team. And with Davenport requesting to work with you personally, you’ve just become one of the most critical members of the entire team, Ember.”