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Kenneth had to bite back giving her advice several times. She required more than a few helpful tips. Shanda might be the artist, but Home Blown needed a manager. Hell, it needed a new name. It sounded almost as erotic as her initial sales pitch, and that hadn’t worked on him either.
That wasn’t totally true. He hadn’t wanted to purchase anything, but damn, there was a part of him that was very interested in something she had to offer. Once again, he found that odd, as Kenneth preferred dark-haired women. The words flowing from those beautiful lips of hers might have amplified his attraction to her. Hell, he’d have sworn she was offering him seven minutes in heaven. Any man who didn’t have a strong physical reaction to an offer from someone as stunning as Shanda, didn’t have a pulse.
Even now thinking about her, his cock twitched.
Blowing technique.
Maybe that was her standard line. That would explain why Billy had sent him there. There was only one way to find out. He dialed Billy’s number. Without even giving Billy a chance to speak, he blasted him. “What the fuck was that about?”
“I’ll need more information before I answer,” Billy responded calmly.
“You sent me to Home Blown for what reason?” he asked. Damn, I hate the name of the shop.
Billy chuckled. “Great. You made it.”
He growled, “To the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s a nice country drive. I do it with Krissy all the time. Did you stop at the ice cream shop up the street? They make all the—” Kenneth let out a growl and Billy chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that,” Billy said.
You’re right. “You were wrong about sending me there.” He really shouldn’t put all the blame on Billy. Usually Kenneth does all his own research first. He would’ve thought he could trust Billy’s judgment better than this.
“Didn’t find what you were looking for?”
“First of all, I don’t need your help to do my job.” Because you suck at it. “And since you thought I’d be interested in fancy blown-glass shit, that just proves you have no idea what I do,” Kenneth stated firmly.
“Krissy loved the shop. We have one of the vases on our dining room table right now.”
Figures.“Please tell me you didn’t send me there so I could decorate my home.”
“Hell no!”
“Good,” Kenneth said. “Give me some ancient artifact or some rare collectable and I’ll find a way to triple the return on it easily. But all that glass stuff won’t make me money, and you know it,” Kenneth snapped.
“Oh, I know what money means to you,” Billy said snidely.
Many people would take offense at such a comment. Not Kenneth. He saw nothing wrong with wanting financial stability. “I remember you felt the same way not too long ago.”
“I know.”
He’d expected Billy to go on about how Krissy had opened his eyes to what was really important in life, and how he was missing out by not being settled down or married. Nothing Billy said was going to change how Kenneth felt. He enjoyed the company of a woman, but without attachment.
“If you know all this, why the fuck did you send me?” he asked.
“You did meet her, right?” Billy asked.
Oh yes, I did. “She was…intriguing, but shouldn’t own a business.”
“Intriguing? That’s all you have to say?” Billy asked, as though shocked.
“She also has no clue how to run a business. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He knew it wasn’t, but Kenneth always said the truth.
“Not exactly, but since you brought it up, what are you going to do about it?”
Kenneth chuckled. “I’m doing it now.”
“What’s that?”
“Driving back to Boston to do some real work,” he replied. Not what he’d like to be doing tonight. Shanda’s innocent offer still haunted his thoughts. Kenneth wasn’t going to get anything productive done. Maybe after a glass of bourbon.
