“Take a seat,” he motioned her to the dark brown studded leather loveseat.
He shuffled through some stuff in his cabinet and pulled out a box.
“Take a look,” he urged as he walked over to the bar in his office and poured himself a scotch. For some reason, she made him a bit uneasy, and a drink was in order to ease his nerves.
She opened the box and pulled out an invitation. A linen paper with a classic san serif font, accentuated with a pink satin raised paisley pattern with cursed gold embossed headings.
“These are great. Very classy.”
“Well, I’m glad you approve. I’m not very good at those kinds of things. My ex-wife was always in charge of that stuff.”
“Well, from a woman’s point of view, I think they’re very nice.”
“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee?”
“Just a water for me, please.”
He got her a glass of water with ice as she admired the invitations. He sat the glass on the table and took a seat opposite her.
“Take one for yourself,” he offered, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I’m glad to get a woman’s opinion. I was second guessing myself. I mean, what do I know?” He was dressed in casual grey pants and a light collared beige shirt, slightly unshaven. He looked better then ever. It seemed every time she saw him, he managed to look better then the time before.
Get a grip, Angela.
She held on to her invitation and set out to leave but she couldn’t help to take in the room before she got up from her seat; the tall windows looking out to the magnificent garden, the bookshelves lining the opposite wall.
“This is a nice office,” she offered, attempting to distract herself from her original unholy thoughts.
“Thanks,” he said, “I spend a lot of time here.”
“What do you do? You mostly work on the computer?”
“Actually, I’m mostly on the phone. I have consultants who work for me. I set them up with contracts for various companies all over the world.”
“And you take a cut?” She was catching on quick.
“Exactly.”
“So you basically have other people do the work and you take the money,” she teased.
“Well, the consultants get more than I do. I’m not a bad guy, you know,” he joked.
“I can see that.” She gave him another one of her sly smiles. She was flirting again.
“You just work from home?”
“I do. I sold my company a few years back. I should be retired but I can’t help myself.”
“A little of a workaholic?” she teased.
She looked amazing with her hair down. The light reflecting off her head, made the golden highlights shine through. She managed to look effortless and gorgeous at the same time. Hecould stare at her all day. He knew she was off-limits, but there was no harm in looking, he told himself.
“So what do you do Angela?” He sat across her in an antique leather studded chair; the kind of chair you sit back with your legs resting on an ottoman, smoking a cigar. He sat forward with his elbows leaning on his knees, a glass of scotch in his hand.
“I mean, other than read with little old ladies,” he teased.
She hesitated a bit. He approached the question a little more lightly, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. He was just curious. He knew nothing about her, and wanted to know everything.
“What I mean is...what gets you up in the morning. What rocks your boat?”
