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“Would you want to share a table with people who screwed you over in business or someone who beat you in the last election.”
He huffed. “We can’t possibly accommodate everyone’s bullshit.”
“How about this? Every time you close out a table, I’ll remove an article of clothing?”
His head shot up, a look of intrigue in his eyes. “Deal.” He scanned the grouping of Patras guests. “Find Mason and Liberty Davis and add Sean O’Malley.”
“Who are they?”
“Friends from North Carolina. We can put them at that table. Then you owe me a piece of clothing.”
“Fair is fair.” The wine was making me hot anyway. I stripped off my cardigan and draped it over the chair. I handed him the cards he requested and kept moving. “Who’s next?”
Hale worked faster once I found the right incentive. By the time we were on the G’s I was down to my bra and panties.
“Elliot and Nadia Garnet.”
Hale clicked his fingers and pointed in the air. “That’s… Uh… Roan! Put them with Asher and Scarlett Roan.”
I crawled across the floor to locate the group with the Roans. “Found it.” I looked over my shoulder. “Four more seats to close out their table.”
His smoldering gaze locked with mine. “Fuck.” He visibly swallowed. “Stay right there.” His hand went to his collar as his stare drifted to my ass.
“Focus, Mr. Davenport. We have a hundred more guests to do.”
“I’d like to do you.”
“You can after you finish your homework.”
His eyes rolled back and he groaned. “And when you use that teacher voice… I’m already hard.”
I smothered a laugh. “A boner in class? Not very classy of you, Mr. Davenport.”
“I would have had one every day if you were my teacher.”
“Your assignment’s not finished yet.”
“Fine,” he growled. “But once those panties come off, I’m done and so are you.”
“We’ll see about that.” I tapped the pile of cards impatiently. “We need two more couples to close out Table Nineteen.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did we place Alessio Di Vicci?”
“The Italian dude? Yes.”
“Damn.” He acted like he was on a game show and a timer was about to go off. “Add Gage and Perrin King…”
“Two more.”
“Shit.” He paced, agitated and unable to think with the huge erection pressing against his pants. “Couples or seats?”
“Two seats or one couple.”
He wracked his brain and fumbled through the cards. “I’ve got nothing but old people and politicians here. We need a young couple.”
“What about the photographer’s brother?”
“Yes! Riley and Emma Lockhart! Bra off, baby!”
