Page 27 of Last First Date

"Waverly," I said, my voice hardened with authority. "You're not listening. I'm not going."

"Alright," she finally said, her voice thin and brittle. "You're disappointing a client. He expects you to be there. I think that's why he called you to handle this. Don't be an arrogant ass."

"What the hell is that about?" I scowled.

"You know your family name is a big deal. Having you there would make him feel special. Yes, he's cashing in on the fact you two go way back. Not everyone has been as lucky as you. Why can't you just show up for a few minutes? You're acting like you're some hot shot that is too big for the little people that knew you back when."

I shouldn't care, but she made me feel like an asshole. "Yeah, well," I muttered, "that's because he's always trying to ride my coattails. He did it in school and now he's doing it in business. Just because I've been successful doesn't mean I should be at his beck and call."

She rolled her eyes with a hint of exasperation. "You're stubborn," she said, leaning back against the edge of my desk.

"Look, Benjamin and I were never friends," I said. "I'm sure there are people from your past you would rather not hang out with. Wasn't there a bitchy cheerleader or a bully in your past?"

She nodded and I thought she might have finally understood what I was trying to convey. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere, I saw her eyes flash with frustration. "You hold on to grudges like they're precious gems."

Her remark almost made me laugh. "Maybe. But I've also learned to protect myself. Not every relationship is worth maintaining, Waverly. And some are best left in the past. Unfortunately, my name earns some unwanted attention. People claim they are my friends because they want something from me."

"But it's about business, about taking one for the team."

"I'm always on the team," I replied. "But this isn't about team-playing or even business. This is Benjamin taking advantage of my position to elevate his own status."

She sighed, and for some stupid reason, she wore me down. I realized she was putting a lot of effort into this. I didn't want to disappoint her.

"Fine, fine. I'll consider it."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"I'm making no promises," I said.

"Of course. Now, did you need something?"

"What?"

"You were hollering across the office like a child searching for his mother," she said. "What? Why were you calling me?"

I had forgotten I called her. "I needed the file for the Hanover event."

She scowled at me and then stomped back to my desk. She picked up a file and dropped it directly in front of me. "Anything else?" she asked with a tight smile.

"I wouldn't mind some coffee," I said.

"You know, there is a stocked breakroom right down the hall. If you want, I can have a coffeemaker put in here. Then you could walk three feet and get your own coffee."

I smiled at her. "And then what would you do all day?"

"You're not that cute," she muttered and walked out.

I laughed and watched her walk away. She returned a few minutes later with my coffee and a handful of little creamers. "Is that all?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"I'm serious about putting a coffeemaker in here. It'll save me at least an hour a day. You really should consider drinking more water. You drink more coffee than anyone I've ever met."

As she left my office, a huff of frustration escaping her lips, I found myself caught in the absurd thought that she looked rather cute when she was pissed. I dismissed the thought. I couldn't think about her like that. Normally, I barely registered the fact she was a woman at all. I had such a head for business, I didn't notice most of the women I worked with. I had never been a fan of office romance.

I turned the Hanover file over in my hands, refusing to look at the door through which she'd left. I didn't need this distraction. Not when there was work to be done, clients to meet, and numbers to crunch. But as hard as I tried, I couldn't shake off her last words. Or the image of her cheeks flushed with frustration.

I poured the creamer into my coffee and stirred it into a whirlpool, and I found myself thinking about Waverly. Not her so much as her body. I guessed her to be at least a C cup. Maybe even a D. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on those beautiful boobs. They were so round and perky. And her ass was like a ripe apple that needed to be plucked. My mind conjured images that led me down an erotic path. This was dangerous territory. Mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea. I felt a pull that was undeniably tantalizing.