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I’m on the phone with Frank Wright—the CEO of a successful baby products company by the name of Simply Baby—but I wave her in anyway. If she waits until I get off the phone to tell me what she needs, it’ll most definitely be too late. Ole Frank loves to chat.
Clara stops on the other side of my desk and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Mr. Ives, I have a Maybe Willis here to see you.”
Is it four o’clock already?
I glance at my watch, smile—I can’t help it—put my phone on mute, and answer her in terms that can’t be misconstrued. God knows I don’t have the patience to play a mind-blitzing game of charades trying to convey my message silently.
“Thanks, Clara. Send her on back, please.”
Clara nods and scoots out the door, and Frank keeps right on going, blissfully unaware of my multitasking. “I’d really love to have our new software up and running by the end of next month. We’ve had too damn many security issues, and with over fifty new products in development, we need the team collaboration tools as soon as possible.”
We haven’t had a relationship with Simply Baby for long, but it’s more than enough time to figure out one thing—Frank Wright is the kind of man who can never get enough reassurance and updates. If he’s told me this information once, he’s told me one hundred times, but he’s paying Fuse a lot of money for our expertise, so all I can do is channel my inner Gandhi and coddle him via phone conversation five days a week.
Still, I’m definitely regretting giving him my number as his point of contact instead of Evan’s. If Simply Baby’s headquarters were in New York rather than Chicago, I imagine I’d be getting daily pop-ins a la the style of a nosy neighbor.
Knowing exactly the pep talk I need to give to get Frank off the phone expediently, I start into my spiel.
“I understand your concerns, Frank, and I know your company’s especially vulnerable during this growth. I can assure you—”
The glass door to my office swings open again, but this time, the woman walking in steals the air right out of my chest and puts a stop to any and all words before they leave my mouth.
Good God.
Unconsciously, a hand goes to my chest.
She is…stunning.
Long, sleek, shiny brown hair gathers in the center of her shoulders and flows down her back, and her lips are painted a lush, almost merlot red. Her legs must be a mile and half long to show that much skin in her tastefully short white dress, and the nude stilettos on her feet make me imagine what they’d look like wrapped around my back.
Fuck. This isn’t good.
But there’s also something about her that has nothing to do with the clothes or the hair or the makeup—it’s in the way she carries herself across the marble flooring of my office.
It makes my heart beat so hard it’s hard to breathe.
She flashes a grin and mouths a “hi” my way before she sits down and crosses her legs in the seat across from mine.
She’s self-assured to the point of bold, and the change of pace sets my blood on fire.
Confidence looks good on Maybe Willis.
“Milo? You still there?” the voice in my ear questions, and I have to blink a few times to understand where in the hell it’s coming from.
“Milo?” he asks again, and I finally snap back to reality.
The call with Frank Wright.
I find my voice as quickly as possible and work tirelessly to steady it. “I’m still here, Frank,” I say, holding up one finger in Maybe’s direction.
She nods her understanding and glances around my office curiously. It takes all of my willpower not to watch her with avid interest.
“I can assure you, Frank, you have nothing to be worried about. We’ll have you up and running three weeks before your deadline.”
“That’s great news.”
I smile with satisfaction and toss Maybe an unplanned wink. Her endless, warm eyes hold mine so intently, I find it hard to swallow.
“I’m going to get you in contact with my CFO, whose Austin team is actually the one working on your software. That way, he can keep you abreast of all progress to make sure you’re at ease until everything is done,” I tell Frank, making a command decision to fork the problem off on to my best friend—something I should have done two months ago.
I patch Frank through to Clara to give him Evan’s number and email, and then thankfully, end the call.
“Passing off your difficult clients to my brother?” Maybe teases, her lips curling up into a sexy grin.
I shrug and hold her eyes. “Sometimes, it pays to be the boss.”
She laughs at that.
“So, I take it lunch and shopping went well?” I ask, and she glances down at her dress and heels.
