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“So I’m told.”
The room filled with the sound of the steamer frothing milk to a perfect foamy consistency. If Flynn needed a second to Sabrina’s “serious” motion, he’d just heard it.
A hazy, golden image filtered through his memory, the sun at the mystery woman’s back, a shadow blotting out her face. He closed his eyes and tried to see the woman with the sultry voice, but she faded much like early this morning. Odd. He’d never had such a lucid dream. God help him if that face belonged to Veronica. He didn’t have that much time to dedicate to therapy.
“We’re here for the meeting you called, Parker. Where are we doing it?” Gage asked him.
“Yeah.” Reid straightened from his lean, a delicate espresso cup dwarfed in one hand. “And what’s it about? Are you retiring to live off your millions?”
“Dad’s millions were wrapped up in assets, not lying around in the bank.”
“Bummer.” Gage shook his head.
“You wouldn’t quit if you had millions, would you?” Reid asked.
“I would.” Gage shrugged. “I can find something else to do with my time.”
“Like what?” Sabrina strolled in, her phone in hand. “Which one of you fine baristas is whipping me up a cappuccino?”
“Gage,” Reid answered.
Gage retorted and Reid argued something back that Flynn missed. Reason being was that he was staring in shock as the face from his dream crystallized.
The golden light receded as she leaned forward over him. He swept her mussed dark hair from her face with his fingers as her mouth dropped open in a cry of pleasure.
“What the hell?”
The coffee banter stopped abruptly and they all turned their attention on him.
“What the hell...what?” Sabrina tipped her head and sent her long hair—the same long, dark hair from his dream—sliding over one shoulder. Desire walloped Flynn like a two-by-four to the gut.
No.
No, no, no, he mentally reprimanded himself, but the rest of his body parts had other ideas.
His eyes took in her jewel-toned red dress and then fastened on the delicate gold chain sitting at the base of her throat. His ears delighted at her kittenish laugh in response to something Reid said. And the one part of him that absolutely should not be reacting to her stirred in interest as if waking from a deep, deep sleep.
“Aren’t you jealous?” Reid asked. And because his arm was slung around Sabrina’s neck, it took Flynn a second to clear the fuzz from his head. “Of our fancy coffees.”
“Flynn should make my cappuccino, and then he can make himself one, too.” Sabrina sashayed over to him, her skirt moving with her long legs, ending in a pair of pointy-toed black high heels. She took his mug from him and he stiffened. And he did mean all of him.
“What do you have in there?” The husk in her voice caused his mind to nosedive into the gutter. But she wasn’t talking about what was going on in his pants, she was referring to his coffee mug. She sipped and then wrinkled her cute nose.
“Plain old drip. Boh-ring. Cappuccinos for everyone and then we’ll get started. Oh! We could have the meeting in here!” She carried the mug to the sink and dumped it. “I’d much rather sit over there than in that conference room.”
“Over there” was a grouping of leather sofas and chairs. Flynn focused on the furniture, desperate to reroute his thoughts from the insane idea that Sabrina was anything other than his best friend. He’d already done her a disservice by benching her. She didn’t need him sexualizing her on top of it.
But thinking of the words on top only served as a reminder of where she was in his dream. On top of him.
“Must’ve been the pizza.” He said that aloud and earned some raised eyebrows from his two male friends. He forced a shaky smile and went to the espresso machine, hoping to busy his hands for a bit, too. “Cappuccinos all around.”
Mugs empty, they lounged in the executive break room. Reid, leg crossed ankle-to-knee in one of the leather chairs, propped his grotesquely handsome head up with one hand, eyes narrowed in thought as Flynn continued listing the details that would need handling when—eventually—he extracted himself from Monarch as Sabrina had suggested. Gage sat across from him in the matching chair, his cell phone in hand as he typed notes into it. Sabrina had chosen the couch across from Flynn. She’d been scribbling notes in a fancy spiral-bound notebook she’d run to her office to fetch before they started.
Flynn had been glad for the break. Her leaving the room had given him a chance to settle his formerly unsettled self. By the time she’d returned, he was back to looking at her like a coworker and friend and not like a man who apparently needed to get laid more than he needed a third cappuccino.
“Understanding that spring is a busy season for us...” His mouth continued on autopilot, but his brain took a sharp left turn when Sabrina set aside her notebook and pen to slip off one shoe. She set the spiked heel on the ground and crossed her leg, massaging one arch with insistent fingers. He watched the movement, his eyes fastened on red fingernails, not too long, not too short. His own voice was an echo, and he hoped to God Reid and Gage weren’t staring at him while he stared at Sabrina. Not that it mattered. Flynn wasn’t capable of stopping.
She bent to slip her shoe on and the neck of her dress gapped, giving him an eyeful of the shadow between her breasts. The lost dream cannonballed back into his subconscious so hard he sucked in a breath midsentence and didn’t recover right away.
