Page 83 of Playing Mr. Perfect

“Are we cool?” Chris asks.

“Yeah. Go get your display cases.” As Chris and Min walk out, I exhale a long breath. “I overreacted, didn’t I?”

Ravi holds up his finger and thumb an inch apart and mouths, A little.

“Why would Clay want to answer our phones?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Ravi nods in the direction of the door.

Through the glass, I see Clay coming down the hall carrying two large bags. Our eyes connect, and that there you are smile appears. Suddenly the questions don’t seem worth worrying about anymore. I open the door for him. “Hi. I thought you were gone.”

“I knew you and Ravi might be burning the midnight oil, so I brought dinner for all of us.”

My heart swells. If he is only playing a role, he could win an Academy Award.

“Thanks, Clay, but I just remembered that I have a basketball game tonight,” Ravi says. “I’m going to grab my coat and take off.”

“You don’t play on Friday nights,” I say.

“It’s a pickup game.”

“Wait. Take this for later.” Clay hands him a to-go container.

“Thanks, man.” Ravi takes it and tosses me an approving glance before heading down the hall.

“I guess it’s just us, sweetheart. Where should I set this up?”

“Let’s eat in my office.”

We set up dinner on the table in my office with the roses in the center. “This chicken marsala smells delicious,” I say as Clay pulls a bottle of Pinot Noir, a candle, and a lighter out of the bag. “Oh my. Aren’t you fancy.”

“Just because you’re busy doesn’t mean you don’t deserve romance.” He lights the candle, turns off the overhead lights, and takes my hand, drawing me into a kiss. “How is it possible that I missed you so much today?”

He reclaims my lips, kissing me deeper, more thoroughly, holding me tight against him. I don’t know what it is about us that makes us go from zero to a hundred in ten seconds flat, but we do, moaning and devouring. When he draws back on a series of feathery kisses, I stifle a whimper.

“God, baby, I’ve got no control with you. We need to stop, or I’ll be having you for dinner.”

A giggle slips out as he pulls out my chair. “Are you trying to take over the king of romance title from Dash?” I ask as I sit down. “Because you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

He sits beside me. “Pretty good is not nearly good enough for you. I need to up my game.”

Doesn’t he know he’s already sweeping me off my feet? I struggle to stay grounded every time we’re together. “You are competitive.”

“Even more so when it comes to you.” He pours the wine and hands me a glass. “Here’s to having more than Paris.”

So much for staying grounded. We toast and kiss. It’s just a sweet touch of our lips, nothing more, and it’s absolutely perfect.

“This is delicious,” I say as we eat. “Thank you for thinking of me and of Ravi, and thanks for answering the phones and bringing everyone gifts.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal. Why did you answer my phones?”

“Because I wanted to help. The real question is, why don’t you use an automated system to direct your calls like most companies do?”

“I don’t like them.” I sip my wine. “I think it’s important to have a personal touch. Especially for a young company. It’s frustrating when you can’t reach a person or at least be told how long you’ll have to wait to get a callback. It’s just taking a while to find the right person.”

“Why is that?”