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“Good. Top on my list is to hire an architect. I’m thinking of Jordyn.”
“That’s great!” Dee enthuses. “Jordyn is awesome. Not that I’m pressuring you or anything, but her garden townhouse complex won an innovation award and was written up inArchitectural Digest.”
“No pressure, huh?”
“None.” She laughs. “It just so happens that Jordyn is super talented and I think you two would work well together.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Jordyn impressed me at Lexie’s party when we briefly talked about the project. She had a number of creative ideas that aligned with my vision, and from the way she once took me on to defend Dee, she’s obviously determined, ballsy, and loyal. Traits I admire in the people I work with. “I’ll give her a call.”
“So, what do you have planned for this evening?” she asks.
“Spending some quality time with Delayna,” I say of the main character from my manuscriptDark Angel.
“Should I be jealous?” she teases.
“Nah. I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”
“Won’t that affect your ability to write?”
“It actually inspires it.” I close my eyes to better picture Dee, sitting at her desk, all those curves she tries to disguise, hidden beneath navy tweed. “There’s this scene I plan to create based on my fantasy of stripping Ms. Chase out of one of her serious business suits.”
“Really?” This still surprises her. The depth of my desire.
“Why don’t I tell you all about it.” I sit back and lower my voice to a husky whisper. “I can go step by step. Layer by layer.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not an option at the moment.”
Dee’s sudden change in tone tells me someone has entered the room. It’s probably her assistant, Lena.
“Are you alone?”
“Not any longer.”
“That kills my plan for phone sex.”
“You have the voice for it. Please be sure to reschedule that for another day.”
“I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
“I’ll…uh…look forward to that too.”
I smile, hearing the catch in her voice, liking that only I know what’s going on beneath her professional composure. “Tonight, Dee.”
“Yes. That time works. I have to go.”
“Do me a favor,” I say. “Think of me.”
“Always.”
“Later, beauty.”
I pack my laptop, zip up my leather bags, and without a backward glance head for home.
ChapterFive
Dee
Main Street in Brockville isone of my favorite places to stroll. There’s an array of cafés, boutiques, and restaurants. In the summer, it’s common to see people, old and young, enjoying iced coffees or lunch on the cobblestone terraces covered by brightly colored awnings.
