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“How was I to know his client wouldn’t be interested in a job?”
She drinks some of her coffee and then returns my grin. “You’re a sneaky bastard, aren’t you, Jett Vaughn?”
I throw my head back and laugh. Thank fuck. This is the Presley I wanted to see. “I’ve been called worse, sweetheart.”
She looks thoughtful. “And what if his client had actually agreed? How were you going to get out of that?”
“Well, considering I’m hoping to convince his client to take that job on, I wouldn’t have any problems if she agreed.”
She sucks in a breath. She hadn’t been expecting that.
I keep talking. “I’m taking you out for lunch today.”
“Oh, really?” She’s putting on a good show, but I’ve worked her out. She wants me, but she’s trying to convince herself she doesn’t. All I need to do is give her a reason to let me in. I need to show her that all her reasons for not wanting me aren’t important.
“Yeah, beautiful, really. I’ve got a booking for us in forty minutes. Can you be ready by then?”
Panic spreads across her face. “Shit, Jett. I don’t know any woman who could be ready in that short amount of time. You’ll need to call and push it later.”
I nod. “Sure.”
I can tell she’s mentally flipping through her wardrobe. She points to her balcony and says, “You can sit in the sun if you want, or in here if you want. Up to you.”
“Go get ready. Don’t worry about me.”
She hurries into her bedroom, and I head outside. I call my friend, Ernesto, who owns my favourite Italian restaurant. “How did it go?” he asks as he answers me.
I chuckle. “I told her I had a booking in forty minutes. She freaked. Told you it would work. Women forget what they want when they’re all freaked like that. Made her forget she didn’t want to go out with me.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re devious,” he mutters. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
I thank him and hang up. He’s right; I am devious, but I’ve never had to use my skills on a woman before. The chase is both exhilarating and frustrating. And I wonder how
long it’s going to take me to convince Presley to give me a shot.
8
Presley
I follow Jett into the little Italian restaurant. How the hell he managed to convince me to come with him is beyond me. He’s got some sort of special powers, I’m sure of it. All he’s gotta do is grace me with that sexy goddamn smile of his, and I’m like a bloody schoolgirl all over again. Falling at his fucking feet.
We’re escorted to our table and place our orders. Then he says, “Crazy Stupid Love.”
“Have you finally lost your mind?” I ask, having no clue what he means.
“This Means War, Killers . . . romantic comedies I like.”
“Oh.”
“A cruise.”
“Huh?”
“A cruise would be a good holiday. You could mix it up with drinks by the pool and exploring the places the ship visits. Perfect combination, don’t you think?”
My stomach does somersaults. He’s put thought into this, and I have to admit I’m impressed. “Yes, I’d love to do a cruise one day,” I say, softly.
He smiles and leans his elbows on the table. “Now, tell me something about you that no one knows.”
