For the first two hours, Daisy finalized event details and confirmed RSVPs on her attendee list. When she finished, she verified the new DJ with Nicole and sent over a select playlist for Friday. Just as she hung up, the door chime dinged. Daisy took a sip of water, slipped into her flats, and headed downstairs.
She was just about to take the last step when she saw him. All six-two of him, staring up at a painting displayed high on the wall. His arms crossed. Wearing a dark brown leather jacket with aviator sunglasses.
I really need to invest in better security equipment, she thought.
With his back still turned, Daisy considered bolting, scurrying back to her office and locking the door. Hadn’t he seen enough of her? After their uncomfortable run-in on Friday, she was hoping she’d never see the likes of Jameson Kingston again. But there he was, pivoting his broad shoulders toward her before she could move.
Daisy gave a curt wave and mouthed, “Hi.”
Half his mouth lifted into a smile as he slid off the aviators. “Hi, Daisy.”
Not wanting to be caught in another heated stare down, Daisy dropped her gaze and moved behind the reception desk. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again. How can I help you?”
Jameson covered the short distance to the desk and rested his folded hands on the counter. “I wanted to finish our… conversation.”
“What conversation?”
“The one we started on Friday.”
Daisy sorted through the folders on the desk. “I don’t recall.”
“The one you ran out on last week.”
“You were always so observant,” she said, dry as sand.
He huffed a laugh. “Anyway, why’d you bolt? I wanted to catch up.”
“Like I said then, I had somewhere to be.”
“Well, do you have somewhere to be now? I’d really like to talk to you, Daisy.”
She licked her lips and met his eyes. The small dimple in his cheek, the one she’d always loved to dip her finger into, caught her short. Amelia had that same dimple, in the exact same spot. That dimple alone was reason enough not to talk with him. Reason enough for him to leave her studio. Now.
“I have to work.”
“Then what about your break?”
“Look, I really don’t want to do this, Jameson. It was… a surprise seeing you on Friday, but I think it’s best you leave.”
He scratched his eyebrow, confused. He clearly wasn’t used to rejection.
“Listen, just ten minutes.”
“No.”
“Fine. Five. Give me five minutes of your time and I promise you’ll never have to see me again.”
Tempting.
A smile inched across his face as he leaned on the desk.
“Jameson…” she warned.
“I’ll come back every day until you say yes.”
“That’s called harassment.”
“No, love—it’s called persistence.”
