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ME ~I totally saw the conversation you guys had with the bartender and him pointing at us. What was that about?~
My phone rings in my hand before I can put it back in my pocket. It’s Sam. “Hey,” I answer.
He clears his throat. “What are you doing right now?”
“I’m about to feed a ten-foot tiger shark. You?”
I chuckle at his muttered curse before he replies, “Nothing so life-threatening. Are you free for lunch later? I think it’s best if I explain the bartender situation in person.”
My brows furrow. “As intrigued as I am now, I can’t. We’re short-staffed today.”
“Okay, how about tomorrow?” he counters.
I nibble my bottom lip. I don’t have time to talk right now; all the other feeders are waiting on me. “Crap, I’ve gotta go. I’ll text you later, okay.” I end the call before he responds.
“Sorry, guys, let’s do this!” I say, forcing a smile I’m not quite feeling. Why does Sam need to explain in person? And why did he call it a situation? That makes it sound like it’s a big deal. An unwelcome feeling settles in my gut.
She hung up on me.
I stare at my phone in shock. This is another first for me.
Maybe I handled that wrong. Should I have acted like I didn’t know what she was talking about when she asked about the bartender? I lean back in my chair and look out at the cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling window of my office.
Last night was amazing. We were amazing together. And if I’ve fucked that, I’ll be royally pissed. But so far, I’ve been completely honest with Hannah, and I have no intention of lying to her now.
I don’t think she’ll be angry with my reason for seeking her out that night. From what the guys in the bathroom were saying, she should be right on board with what I want with her. We probably should have discussed it before last night happened, but it’s not like I planned to fuck her brains out.
Before I can dwell on it all for too long, Tom throws the door to my office open and struts in wearing the most hideous suit I’ve ever seen. I burst out laughing. “What the hell are you wearing?”
He flips me off. “This beauty is from Bobby James’s new exclusive line, thank you very much. It costs thirty-six thousand dollars,” he says, running his hands over the lapels.
I roll my eyes. “Just because it’s obscenely expensive does not mean it’s worth it. That thing is”—I examine the eggplant-purple atrocity—“an eyesore.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Sammy. It’s not my fault you lack the confidence to pull off a suit like this. Also, I simply pointed out how much it costs. I didn’t say I paid for it. Bobby asked me to be the face of his new line.”
“And you said yes? Was that before or after you saw it?” I ask, genuinely curious now.
Heaving a sigh, he drops into the chair across from me. “Before, but that’s irrelevant.”
It’s after eight when I finally hear from Hannah.
HANNAH ~Sorry for the late message. Work was crazy busy. This week isn’t going to work out for me. We’ve got a few people down with the stomach flu. I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you.~
After last night, I’m hornier than a teenager. I don’t want to wait a whole week before seeing her again. But she’s already called me a creeper once, so I’m not going to tell her that.
ME ~Okay. Next weekend then?~
HANNAH ~Sounds good. Let me know where and when.~
I send her the address of my favorite restaurant, Alejandro’s, then tell my secretary to make a reservation for next Saturday evening. I don’t actually have any intention of waiting until then to see Hannah, though. If she can’t get away from work, I’ll go to her.
Now that I know she knows it was no accident that brought us together, I have an overwhelming urge to explain myself.
* * *
Three days later,I got Tom to give me the security codes to enter the restricted staff zones behind the scenes of The Aquarium. He didn’t even ask why I wanted them; he simply gave me a knowing grin then handed them over.
After punching in the code on the digital lock at the staff entrance by the rear parking lot, I go in search of Hannah. A guy wearing a wetsuit steps in front of me, placing a hand on my shoulder, attempting to steer me back toward the exit. “You can’t be back here, sir.”
