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“Julian sent me flowers this morning,” I said. “So did Christian.”
“Whose are bigger?”
I looked over at the two vases on my desk. Christian’s gargantuan one dwarfed poor Julian’s—in size, vibrancy, and even personality. There was a parallel between the flowers and the men.
“Christian can have any woman he wants. You should’ve seen the waitress last night stumbling over her words when she came to take our order.”
“Maybe. But it seems like the woman he wants is you.”
I took a deep breath in and exhaled audibly. “I agreed to a date with Christian tomorrow.”
“We need to go shopping. I’ll be at your office at six. Where are you going?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, you’re rich now. We’ll buy multiple outfits so you’re prepared for anything.”
“I have plenty of clothes at home.”
“You have plenty of clothes to date Julian Morehouse. Trust me, you have nothing in your closet worthy of Christian Knox.”
I should’ve been insulted by that comment, yet he was probably right. “Make it six thirty. I have a meeting at five, and it might run longer than an hour.”
“You got it, sunshine. I’ll see you later.”
One good thing about this job was that I didn’t have time to overthink. After I hung up with Miller, I had to run to a meeting, and then three more after that. By the time I got back to my office, it was almost four. I walked to the wall of windows and looked down at the field. Players were scattered all over the turf, so it looked like practice was finishing up. Christian was in the endzone, throwing the ball to one of his receivers. I watched for a few minutes, in awe of how graceful such a large man could be. He made it seem so easy—like I should be able to throw a ball sixty yards. After a few more minutes, he and the player he’d been throwing with slapped hands, and Christian headed toward the tunnel, talking to the offensive coordinator.
“Why haven’t you signed the sponsorship deal I put in for signature last week?” My sister Tiffany’s voice made me jump. I turned to find her already in fight mode, her legs spread wide and arms folded across her chest. “And where is my car lease?”
I exhaled. “Hi, Tiffany. How are you?”
“Unhappy. Why isn’t the Foreman contract signed?”
As if her unending state of miserableness would be cured if one contract were signed…
“I asked the PR department to do a little digging. One of the companies Foreman owns makes children’s clothing, and I remembered reading an article a few months ago about some questionable child labor they might’ve been using in Myanmar.”
“All of our vendors are vetted before we do business with them.”
“Okay, but we don’t do an annual update on all our business partners. I looked back, and we’ve been doing business with Foreman for ten years. Their business could have changed a lot since then.”
“They’re an upstanding company.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But it couldn’t hurt to run another check. I’m sure PR will get back to me with their report soon. I figured it’s better to be safe than sorry. We wouldn’t want anything to tarnish the Bruins name.”
A wicked smile spread across Tiffany’s face. “Yes, we wouldn’t want anyone else to tarnish the team name, not when the lovely new owner is doing such a great job of it on her own.”
My eyes narrowed. “How am I hurting the team’s name?”
“Getting passed around by the players more than the ball in a game doesn’t exactly make us look good.”
“Passed around? What are you talking about?”
“I saw the Post.”
I sighed. Of course that’s what this was about. “Do you have anything else you need to discuss with me?”
Her answer was to turn around. But she stopped in the doorway. “He’ll be done with you by the time we get to playoffs, if it even lasts that long. Just ask Salma in accounting.”
And here I’d thought I’d been standing my ground so nicely in today’s square off with my sister. But that last comment knocked me for a loop. Salma in accounting? With the big boobs and beautiful, shiny hair? Luckily, my sister was long gone so she didn’t see she’d landed a direct hit. Though I suspected she knew it.
Five minutes later, I still hadn’t really recovered, but I knew Josh would be knocking at my door shortly to remind me it was time to go to yet another meeting. So I forced myself back to work and called up the agenda on my computer. A few lines in, there was a knock at my door. I looked up to find Christian.
He took one look at the two vases of flowers on my desk and frowned. “You have a minute?”
I nodded. “Only that. I have a meeting soon.”
Christian shut the door behind him and walked to my desk. He gestured to the flowers. “The florist accidentally sent two?”
