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“And you’ll let me attend?” She cocks her head. “What if I learn something useful?” Her eyes are calculating. Shit. I didn’t think of that. I’m off my game. Distracted by her full mouth and thoughts of locking the door and shoving her up against the wall.
I shrug. “Fine by me.”
“Okay, then.” She gives a brilliant smile and pops off the couch. “Let me know when it’s time to leave.”
19
Callie
Finally. Something I can use. I don’t even care that I have to spend more of precious personal time on company business, that I’ll be attending looking like I just ran a marathon in my sheath dress. An event surrounded by billionaires? No one gets access like this. Especially if it’s small, it means I’ll actually get to talk to people.
It’s weird that Jonah wants me to attend. I mull over his motivations as I pack my bag. I make sure I have my spare charger and my notepad, just in case. He probably wants to torment me more. Maybe I’ll have to fetch him drinks. Maybe he’ll make me wear a leash or something. I snort a laugh and cover my mouth.
“Finally losing it, Thompson?” My head jerks to where Jonah leans against the door frame. The breath leaves my lungs in a rush. He’s wearing a tux that fits him like a glove. His hair has been tamed with gel, and it highlights the sharp planes of his face, his cut-glass cheekbones, his too-full lips, the shadowed edge of his jaw.
“Did you have that suit in your office?” Not the question I want to ask. Is that material as soft as it looks? Why do you smell so good?
“Of course. Let’s go.”
I follow him down the hall, rolling my eyes at his back. One of his fleet of black cars is idling outside the building. The driver opens my door and I give him a bright smile. Jonah huffs as we sink into the cool interior.
“Are you really like that with everyone?”
“Like what?”
His jaw tics and he looks out the window. “So…nice.”
I laugh softly. Only from Jonah would that sound like an insult. “I’m always pleasant to people in the service industry. They have some of the worst jobs. Believe me. I know. I waitressed for years.”
“When did you waitress?”
“Years ago. While I was in journalism school. I waitressed at a diner and lived at home. I had a scholarship, but I still needed to cover living expenses. Trust me, with the kind of customers you get overnight at some places, a smile goes a long way.”
He looks back at me, his black gaze inscrutable. “You’re like that with everyone at the office too.”
I shrug. “I try to wake up on the right side of the bed. There have been times in my life when things weren’t so good. When I get up, I try to think of one thing I have to look forward to every day.”
The look of distaste on his face makes me laugh again. “I’m not a Mary Sue, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just decided one day that I could go through life angry at the world, or appreciative. The latter is far more pleasant.”
“And today? What did you have to look forward to today?”
Very little, I nearly say, but it’s not true. That’s surprising. I guess going toe-to-toe with Jonah every day is exhilarating. I’m sure as hell not telling him that, though. “The weather is nice. I decided to walk to work and treat myself to a coffee on the way. There’s a place near me that makes New Orleans-style coffee with chicory. I love it.”
“And when things weren’t so good?”
I pull my lip between my teeth, and Jonah’s gaze arrows to my mouth. I’m not entirely sure I want to share this with him. It feels like ammunition. Who do you think you are, Thompson? “I’ve just had some times that were tough. That’s all.”
He hums noncommittally, and I think he’ll go back to staring out the window, but instead he watches me. His attention is a physical thing, overwhelming when combined with the way he takes up all the air in the small space. Our hands rest next to each other on the seat, and I have an insane urge to run a finger over the back of his hand, his wrist. Would his skin be warm and rough? Would the hairs feel good under my fingers? Are his arms as heavy with muscle as they appear to be in the gym?
“What are you thinking about?” His words in the silent car make me startle.
Um. Fantasizing about your arms. Shit. “Just thinking about the paper,” I say airily. That will shut him up.
His jaw tightens. “Yes. The gossip. I’m sure you’ll learn some interesting things tonight.” He looks homicidal at the thought.
“Gossip isn’t all bad, you know. It’s fun. Light. Enjoyable. It provides an escape for people.” I cut myself off before I can go further into my tirade about why things that primarily women enjoy aren’t bad. Like reality TV, celebrity news, and romance novels.
He raises a brow for me to go on. “Don’t let me stop your crusade, Thompson. What about gossip is good? I’m dying to know.” He drawls the words like he can’t possibly be convinced.
