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“How the hell should I know?” he laughs. “You’re always the one without someone on your arm when we do these things. The women gossip; you know how they are.”
“Women always gossip,” I say. “I can’t think of anyone I might want to bring.” The only person I might take to a retreat like that is Emma, but she’s usually too busy with her private clients to take a whole weekend off. And I don’t have anyone else in my life.
For a moment, Rachel comes to mind. Can I ask her to come with me?
When I think about her, my cock twitches.
That will just ask for trouble. I’m already struggling to hold back and not push her up against a wall and fuck her senseless.
Besides, I always go to these retreats alone.
It’s better this way.
Chapter 10
Rachel
“He wants to do dinner,” I say to Samantha after I end a call with Blake.
“That sounds fancy. Are you going?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
We’re in the mall at one of the men’s wear stores I know well. I have a list of things I need to pick up for Blake—his suits will be tailor-made but the shirts and shoes I can buy from a shelf.
“You should totally go,” Sam suggests. “I mean, the guy is loaded. I think that shirt you’re holding costs more than I make in a year.”
I giggle. “Yeah, but dinner isn’t a part of our contract.”
“I think you should humor the guy,” Sam says again.
I want to go. When my phone rang and I saw Blake’s name on the caller ID, my stomach erupted in butterflies.
But that’s exactly the reason Ishouldn’tgo. Because he gives me butterflies. Like I’m some kind of teenager who isn’t used to having a boy pay me any attention. I’m supposed to keep this whole thing professional and not fall for his charm.
Because God, Blake Ford ischarming. And hot. And handsome as hell.
And the way he makes me feel when I’m around him…
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Sam asks.
I nod, studying two different shirts in the same color.
“Which one do you think works better?” I ask.
Sam comes to stand next to me and frowns at the shirts.
“That one. It looks more old-fashioned.”
I burst out laughing. “The point is to stay fashionable, you know.”
“Okay, old-fashioned is the wrong word.Classic.That’s what you’re calling it these days, right?”
I laugh again. “It’s not whatI’mcalling it. It’s how you phrase it. It’s important.”
“Hey, if you’re going to call something classic just to sell it, then I’m all for it.” Samantha grins at me.
“You’re right,” I say and choose the shirt she opted for. But I’m not talking about the shirt. “What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll be out in public.”
