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Carter: I missed our usual morning chat.
Val: I’m sorry. I overslept and didn’t have time.
Carter: Are you sure that’s the only reason?
I bit into the pancake, frowning at my phone.
Val: Sure. What else could it be?
Carter: Me.
Then a second message popped up.
Carter: Avoiding me.
Val: Do I have a reason to avoid you?
Carter: You tell me :-)
Val: Nope, not at all.
Truthfully, I had missed breakfast because of him, just not in the way he thought. I’d overslept because I’d fallen asleep very late. I’d tossed and turned, first thinking about him, then dreaming about him. And those were some hot as hell dreams. Our encounter on the boat had served as the catalyst, and my imagination had filled in the rest.
Carter: When do you have time for dinner?
Val: I checked my calendar and it’s hectic. I’ll be locked up here with my team most evenings. I have time on Wednesday only.
Carter: April has a recital that evening.
Val: Lunch?
Carter: Zachary and I will be with clients at midday every day this week.
Val: Let’s push it to next week then.
Carter: It’s not what I was hoping for, but okay. Will I see you tomorrow morning?
Val: I’m not sure. We’re choosing the final samples this week, so we start at seven. I’m not good company at that ungodly hour, trust me. I’ll probably just order in.
I felt a pang of regret as I sent the message. It was as if the universe was conspiring against us... well, our schedules were, at least.
Carter: You don’t have to. I’ll take care of that :-) It’s another promise.
Well, hell. He certainly knew how to stump me. I had no idea what to reply, so I sent a simple thank you. Then I finished my breakfast, determined to push all thoughts about Carter to the back of my mind, even though all I wanted now was to call my sisters, open a bottle of wine, and tell them everything in detail, dissect every single thing.
I took my notepad and descended to the testing room, determined to focus on the task at hand. The joke was on me. The tiniest connections were enough for my thoughts to fly back to Carter: a whiff of mint, a mention of masculinity.
“Val?” Nicole, the head chemist, asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” I mentally berated myself. I wasn’t going to let my team down. We’d all worked hard for this particular line of fragrances. It was launching on three different continents at the same time—an exclusive line for Sephora, one of our biggest accounts.
This line was one of my favorites: a concept of playful scents to remind us of summer all year round. We had our fair share of alluring and seductive lines, but these were meant for the girl hidden in every woman. The little miss princess inside of us.
Sephora had approached me for an exclusive line after I’d entered a similar partnership with a chain of department stores. When I pitched them my idea, they were intrigued, but warned that the sexy angle worked better than playful. I’d made my case about the two not being mutually exclusive, and they’d run with the idea.
The week turned out to be one of the most intense in months. Beauty SkinEssence hadn’t contacted my lawyer again. I wished I had closure on the case. No news was good news, but not knowing was weighing on me.
The daily deliveries from Walter’s were just the boost I needed to keep on going.
