“And you are Mr. Radisson?”
“I’m not, though I’m a little sorry I’m not him because I’ve always wanted someone to run after me.”
That sentence floored me, and my feet refused to move. My brain was looping back to the beginning of our shortconversation, wondering if I’d missed a clue or a gigantic billboard that read,He’s flirting. Flirt back.
“Oh.” I cursed my one-word answer and wished I could roll back the reel of time and try that again. “Mr. ummm, not-Raddison.”
“Remy.”
“Mr. Remy.”
“No, just Remy.” Now the guy was purring, and I wanted to reach through the phone and stroke him.
“Remy.” Perhaps we’d gotten the wrong name in the computer, as well as forgetting to add the address. “I have to apologize.”
“You’ve been doing that for the past few days. I love a man who can admit when he’s wrong.”
I plonked myself into my office chair so hard that it skidded, and I slammed into the desk. “Owww!”
“What was that? Did you hurt yourself? I’m very good at ministering to the injured.”
If he didn’t shut up, I’d slide off the chair onto the floor and wouldn’t be able to get up. “I’m fine. Nothing broken.”
“Excellent, though I can’t say I’m not disappointed that you don’t need my help.”
The man at the end of the phone was twisting me in knots.
“But I do. I need your address so we can deliver your piece.”
“And that would be a piece of what?”
He was teasing me and he’d gotten me flustered.
“Your coffee table. It’s been sitting in the workshop for days.”
“I’d be more than happy to tell you where I live so you could visit, but I didn’t buy a coffee table.”
“What?” Now I found my voice, and I rolled the chair to the computer. Damn, not only was the number incorrect, but so was everything else.
“I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time, but the coffee table doesn’t belong to me.”
“I must apologize once again for leaving all those messages.” Poor guy, he’d been inundated with me banging on about a coffee table that wasn’t even his.
“But I wish it was mine, Hari.”
It was the first time he’d used my name. I’d mentioned it in each message, so it wasn’t a secret. I wanted to hear him say it a hundred different ways. He could stress the first syllable, or the second, he could make the vowel sound ever so long or clipped. Remy could say it however he liked and I’d listen.
What did I say to prolong the conversation? Remy wasn’t the customer I’d been searching for, and I should say my goodbyes and get off the phone.
“Perhaps I’ll buy a coffee table from you one day and you can deliver it in person.” He paused and footsteps padded over a wooden floor in the background. “Though I have to admit, I’d never heard of your store until now.”
“We make furniture to order.”
“Ahhh, I’ll have to save up.”
The bell over the door tinkled, and I stuck my head out of the office. Now that was an angry man. His face was red, and he had his arms folded and was tapping his fingers on his upper arm.
“I’m sorry, Remy, but I have to go. I have a customer. Goodbye.”
