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Chewing on the side of her lip, she seems to debate saying more.
“What?”
“Do you think people would pay me to do this?” She gestures around. “Design and aesthetics.”
“I am.” I shrug and walk closer to her. “Just because it comes easy to you doesn’t mean it comes easy to everyone.”
She nods, her smile cautious.
Caution is overrated. I know her well enough to know that she’s independent and able to self-manage.
“I can help. I know a great lawyer who specializes in LLCs.”
She hugs her notebook to her chest, her cheeks going tawny with embarrassment—or maybe I caught her off-guard. “I was just writing down a few ideas,” she murmurs. “It helps me think.”
“Let’s hear ’em,” I invite.
She flips back a few pages in her notebook, walking and talking. I’m given a full tour from her point of view—how she sees it now, and how it could be in the future. I listen, rapt. She’s magical. Damn sexy when she’s in charge. Hell, yeah, people would pay for her expertise. She has an instinct for what goes where, mentioning the importance of “the flow.” I’ve overseen a hell of a lot of nightclubs, so I’m not totally new to the game, but I don’t know what I don’t know. I appreciate her input. Already she’s proving as valuable in this endeavor as I imagined.
I follow her down a corridor. I’m listening, swear to God, but I’m only a man. I can’t keep my eyes off her perfect ass in those jeans. Her high-heeled, and highly impractical, boots are the stuff of wet dreams. Her hair is down, my second favorite look on her. Her hair wrapped in my fist with my lips on her throat takes first place with a miles-long lead.
We step into an oddly shaped space. The room is long and narrow, its windows tall and slender. There’s a stone walkway outside, and mud from where the landscapers pried up overgrown bushes. It’ll be a rose garden come spring. Mom’s passion will lend a burst of much-needed color.
“Welcome to the meditation room,” Talia tells me. “I suggest a fountain here”—she points to the blank wall—“and a grouping of flameless candles or diffusers here.” She points to the windowsills. “Do you have plans for the outside?”
“Mom’s roses.”
Talia offers a warm smile. “Perfect. I was hoping you wouldn’t say animal-shaped topiaries.”
“Animal-shaped topiaries? No, I don’t think so.”
“Good choice. You could rent out the room by the hour if you wanted.”
“Sounds kinky.”
“For meditation,” she enunciates, poking me in the chest as she heads for the front door. “Or you can teach meditation classes here and offer sessions included with their paid tuition.”
This is exactly why I hired her. I knew she’d see options I couldn’t. She’s a genius.
“I’m overstepping.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “Here you are asking me where the furniture should go, and I’m offering up business advice you don’t need.”
“I do need it. You’re a visionary, Wildflower. Don’t be ashamed of your gifts.”
The curve of her lips proves irresistible. I lean in. She tastes as good as she tasted an hour ago back at the townhouse. Better, actually, but that makes sense. She’s better each time I touch her. When we tear each other’s clothes off after dinner tonight, the sex will be phenomenal.
Looking forward to that.
“Can I take you to dinner now?” I hope I don’t sound like a horny teenager.
“You’d better,” she agrees. I don’t miss the feisty gleam in her eyes.
