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“I had a feeling you’d be in early today.” She steps forward and relieves my hands of some files.
“Because I have the Pyra meeting,” I point out.
“Of course,” she mutters, heading for the conference room. “Not because you might want to avoid someone.”
My eyes narrow on her back as I follow, but I don’t argue. There would be little point. “Put them here,” I instruct as I drop my own load on the end of the conference table. “Where’s the projector?”
“Sales had it last I heard.”
“Great. You go find it, and I’ll get my laptop set up.”
“Yes, sir.” She goes on her way, but stops at the door when I call her. She turns. “What?”
I grin. “Your tits look great today.”
“You’re not fooling me with fake pleasantries, Tyler Christianson. You look like a troubled man under all those expensive threads.”
My grin drops. “I am troubled,” I admit before I can stop myself. “I haven’t come in two weeks.” I shouldn’t have said that, because now she’s going to ask why, and it’s not something I’m prepared to go into.
As I knew she would, Gina recoils, shocked. “Why?”
Damn. Um . . . “Stress.” I go to my laptop and start wiring it up. “This pitch has taken a lot out of me.”
“Right. And so has temptation. Maybe it would be an idea to send out a group text to your harem to let them know you’re taking a break. Then they’ll stop calling your office and bothering me when you don’t answer your mobile.”
“Funny,” I mutter, and she grins before disappearing. Yes, the calls and texts are still occurring most days, but I’ve not been in the mood. It’s a temporary situation, so no need to alarm my harem with silly excuses. I’ll be back on form again soon, mark my words.I’m pumped, totally psyched, as I stride to the conference room at ten minutes to two. I’ve been over my pitch a few more times, not that I needed to. But I needed to keep busy. “See them in when they arrive,” I say to Gina as I pass her desk, buttoning up my suit jacket.
“You look powerful,” she tells me, and I chuck her a cheeky wink on a grin.
“Good, because I feel it.”
“Knock ’em dead, tiger.”
“Oh, I will.”
I make it to the conference room and push my way through the door, finding Sal hunched over the table looking at my finished drawings. Damn, I’ve missed him. We’ve spoken every day, of course, but never have we been so long without actually seeing each other, the odd holiday aside.
He glances up, a bit blankly, forcing my steps to a stop. He looks drained. And then I remember; he was on a promise last week. “Still exhausted after date night?” I ask on a grin, shutting the door behind me.
He huffs sardonically, making my smile drop. That wasn’t a good reaction to my question. “Date night didn’t happen.”
“Why?”
“Mia didn’t want Nanna to look after her. Threw a hissy fit. Moya was all out of enthusiasm and energy by the time we defused the situation.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “Well, that sucks.”
“I wish it fucking did suck.” Sal sits himself down and shakes his head in despair. “This weekend has been pure hell. Pure hell, man. I adore my little girl, so bloody much, but boy does she know how to play the game. Moya and I have done nothing but go at each other’s throats.”
I take a seat next to him. “Sorry, man.”
He waves a hand in the air in false flippancy. “Meh, story of my life these days. The kid rules the roost.”
“You need to rein her in.” I’m no expert, but the pecking order clearly needs to be fixed. Right now, my poor mate is at the bottom of the pile of tantrums and kiddy manipulation.
“I try.” He sighs. “And Moya undoes it all the moment I step out the door to come to work. Apparently, I just don’t understand how hard it is for her while I’m at the office.”
“She gives in?”
“All the damn time, and Little Miss has it all figured out in her four-year-old mind.”
I wince and squeeze his shoulder. “It’ll work itself out.”
“Yeah.” He laughs and sits up. “Enough of my husband and daddy problems. Tell me about the masterpiece you’ve crafted.”
I scroll though the files I need, making sure they’re in order. “Call me bigheaded, but it really is a masterpiece.” I turn the screen toward Sal to show him a few slides.
“Wow.” He moves in closer, forehead bunched, and I mirror his frown, wondering what’s got his bald head so wrinkled.
“What is it?” I look at the screen.
“Those hips, man. Fuck . . . me.” He laughs lightly. “Who’s your muse?”
I laugh too, but I also come over a little hot. “Just . . . someone.”
