"We leave for Vegas Wednesday morning. Seven AM sharp. Pack something nice for dinner. We're meeting with the board Thursday night."
"You're very bossy."
"You like it."
"I really shouldn't."
"But you do."
She bites her lip, fighting a smile. "Maybe."
I pull her against me one more time, my mouth against her ear. "Go inside, Harper. Before I change my mind about being a gentleman."
She nods, stepping back, but her eyes are still lust-glazed and glossy.
"Text me," I remind her.
"Yes, sir."
The words are a hit of adrenaline to my veins, and she knows it. Her eyes light up with satisfaction before she turns and walks into the building.
I watch her go, then get back in the car.
James very carefully doesn't comment on my disheveled appearance or the lipstick on my collar or the fact that I'm adjusting myself as I settle back into the seat.
"Back to the office, sir?"
"Yes. Thank you, James."
My phone buzzes before we've even pulled away from the curb.
HARPER: Made it inside. Safely. No incidents.
HARPER: Also you have lipstick on my collar. Might want to fix that before your conference call.
ME: I don’t mind.
HARPER: You're not going to fix it, are you?
ME: No.
HARPER: Why not?
ME: Because I want to remember how it got there.
Three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.
HARPER: You're going to be the death of me.
ME: Good. Then we're even.
HARPER: Have fun with your conference call.
ME: Unlikely. But I'll have fun thinking about what I'm going to do to you in Vegas.
HARPER: That's not fair.
ME: Life rarely is. Get used to it.
