AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My hotel doesn’t allow pets.” He idly fingered the corner of the presentation folder. “It’s one date. What do you have to lose?”
“What do I have to gain?”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “Ouch. That hurts.”
She snorted. “I doubt that.”
“Say yes anyway, out of guilt.” He bit back a grin. He could taste the victory on the tip of his tongue. “It’s the least you can do after I saved your life earlier.”
“You’re right. The guilt is overwhelming me,” she said sarcastically. But in her eyes, he saw the spark of amusement. She might be pretending to be annoyed, but she was having fun.
And miraculously, so was he.
“Come on. Give me one good reason why we can’t enjoy each other’s company for the evening? You can show me Vegas through the eyes of a local. Give me better insight into how I could market the Golden Hand.”
She chuckled. “Going for the business approach now that the date suggestion failed?”
He steepled his fingers under his chin. That’s exactly what he was doing. “Yep.”
She met his eyes and sighed. “Okay—but it’s not a date.”
He stood up and grabbed his briefcase, biting back a smile. It was absolutely a date. “I’ll pick you up at seven for our date.”
“You’re insufferable,” she said, a grin tipping up the corner of her mouth.
“Can’t say I didn’t warn you. And here’s another warning.” He leaned across the table, his body brushing against her as he did so. She tensed and held her breath. He stopped at eye level with her—his face an inch from hers. “I go after what I want—and I want you.”
“Oh?” she asked breathlessly. “Do I get a say in this matter?”
“Yes. You can tell me all about it tonight.” He grinned and stood up straight, the check in his hand. “See you later, Brianna.”
Brianna nodded and smoothed her hair. “For our meeting.”
“And our date,” he called over his shoulder.
Chapter Two
Brianna leaned back in her desk chair with a sigh and rubbed her eyes. The financial projections on her screen looked grim. She hated that Thomas was right. But most of all, she hated that even now, Thomas Jones wouldn’t stop creeping into her thoughts.
Obnoxiously persistent even when he wasn’t here. Typical.
Why was he so insistent on taking her out tonight? Men like him normally didn’t give her a second glance; they were more interested in Bambi on the pole than Brianna behind the desk. He looked like he’d been a football player in high school. Some kind of jock. Just the type who would have scorned her back then, as the fat, ugly girl everyone shot spitballs at.
Just the type who should scorn her now.
She’d spent too many adolescent nights crying herself to sleep to entirely trust his motives. A football player had played nice with her once. Pretended to like her, invited her to Homecoming, then pulled a Carrie on her and left her at the mercy of the entire cheerleading squad. They’d used glue in the spitballs, that time. Shampoo hadn’t worked. Nothing had worked. She’d had to shave her head, endure the cue-ball taunts, and tell her mother she was going through a punk phase.
If her mother had known the real reason, she’d have fainted in a dead heap on the floor—and probably pulled her out of school faster than it would take Brianna to get the smelling salts and revive Scarlett from the vapors. Her mother had idly mentioned home schooling once. With a choice between torture or her mother’s idea of teaching, she’d chosen the torture.
She shook her head and glared at the screen. Enough with the maudlin thoughts. She had a company to run, and she wasn’t that chubby insecure little girl anymore—but she was realistic. There had to be another reason he was interested in her…but what? Did he hope to charm her into accepting his account?
That had to be it.
With a sigh, she checked the time. Five more minutes and she could clock out and head downstairs. She wasn’t sure if she should even bother freshening up. Since she’d come back from the lunch meeting with Thomas, she’d been putting out fires left and right. A customer had been caught counting cards. Another had passed out across the table, very close to a severe case of alcohol poisoning, and when a waitress had checked his pulse he’d woken up and claimed sexual harassment.
A fairly typical day on the job, and she was a mess. Exhausted. Irritable. Bleary-eyed. She was pretty sure she had mascara on her lips, and she was too tired to care.
Yet five minutes later, she somehow found herself in the employee bathroom looking at her frazzled reflection in the mirror. Hopeless. It would take more than a little foundation to fix this, more like a tub of spackle. She hadn’t thought to bring anything with her but her business suit, but maybe that was for the best. She didn’t want to look available. She didn’t want to look desperate, and give him reason to think she could be wooed into acceptance.
