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“Hey,” I call over to her. She doesn’t even look up. A standard pickup line is probably not going to work. Instead, maybe it’s better to play it cool and calm down on the rock star vibe. “The sandwich shop, remember?”
She finally faces me and nods. But it’s almost indifferent. “What’s my name?” she asks.
“I’ll call you whatever you want me to,” I tell her, stepping closer.
Smug? Maybe even a little douchey? Sure, but I know my game, and that line works. At least, it usually does.
“Sorry, I’m not one of those girls you can hit on with a cheesy line, and I’ll drop my clothes for you.”
“No?” I smirk. “Well, we don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to.”
She turns to me and puts a finger on my chest. There’s a tiny smirk on her face, and I think I’ve finally broken through her shield. “Really?” she whispers, stepping closer. Her finger travels up from my chest to my chin. “You don’t want me to say your name?”
Finally. “Maybe we can make an exception for that.”
“But what if I want you to say my name?” Her words are soft. Her gaze stays on my lips, and it’s enough to make me want to start kissing her already.
“Like I said, I’ll call you whatever you want.”
“In that case,” she whispers again, only this time, her eyes lock on mine, “just make sure you do your job, Maddox. As long as you do that, I’ll keep signing your paycheck.”
My head jerks back and the realization hits me. “Shit. You’re Baby Mavin.”
“I hate that name.”
“My bad.” Backing up a step, I straighten out.
“I manage Luxe, which makes me your supervisor. As a matter of fact, I was in the meeting with you and your manager when you wanted this gig. So do me a favor? Don’t hit on your boss.”
The elevator dings, and she steps through the doors. She doesn’t look back. My jaw drops and stays there, completely dumbfounded, and even though I hate to admit it, a little embarrassed.
