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That doesn't mean she's going to win the war.
“If you're that hungry, we can eat here in your office. But keep that in mind going forward, until all of this has passed. You might want to pump the brakes on your social life.”
“Understood.” Really, I wasn't inviting her to lunch strictly to discuss business. I want to talk about her. Who she is, where she comes from, what makes her tick. Whether she's getting off on being in control and whether that has anything to do with feeling out of control when she was a kid.
Now, she's the one with all the power, the one telling people what to do while they have no choice but to obey. I can see how that would be a turn-on for someone who was treated the way I treated her.
At least I know she's professional, always thinking about the task at hand. We haven't even signed a contract yet, but she's already on the job.
As if she reads my mind, she glances up from her phone again. “I guess we should discuss contracts at this point.”
“Have you brought one with you?”
“I'll send it your way now.” Again, she taps away on her phone, her red nails shining in the light. “It's sent.”
“I'll print it.” While standing, I add, “Why don't you check out the website for the club. The menu’s there. Whatever you'd like, I can have it sent up.”
“Thanks. I guess I could use a little something.” Of course, because she wasn't planning on staying. No doubt she'd be well on her way back to Manhattan by now if this had gone the way she’d planned.
“It's probably not as exciting as what I'm sure you could get delivered in your neighborhood.”
“It'll be just fine.” She's hardly paying attention to a word I've said, still too involved with her phone. I'm doing my best to learn a little bit about her and where she lives, how she is, and I'm not even sure why it seems so important that I learn all there is to know. Clearly, she is not interested in providing answers. Again, I have to remind myself we aren't here to socialize, no matter how intriguing I find her.
It isn't until I head to Theresa's office that I remember she's here. “I'll take that,” I announce, pulling the contract from her printer. “I might need you to type up a few changes depending on what we negotiate, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t take too long. You’re already doing me a favor by being here on a Saturday.”
“Well? How did it go? I didn't hear any screaming, so I assume that's a good thing?”
“It came very close to screams,” I admit in a whisper. “But it's a success.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she whispers, one hand to her chest. “I'll be offering prayers of thanks during services tomorrow.”
“Throw an extra one in there for me, will you?” With that, I hustle down the hall to where Willow now peruses our menu. There is something inherently graceful about her—it's the way she holds her head, her posture, and if I didn't know better I would think she was a dancer in her younger days. Wallowing Willow was not a dancer.
Though for all I know, she could have been. She seemed clumsy and awkward when we were young, but I'm sure my criticism didn't help things. I only made her feel that way, I suppose. I wonder if it's possible to make up for something like that, and whether she would let me try. She seems to have a lot of pride, that much is for sure, so I doubt she would open up easily.
“I’ll have a cobb salad,” she decides before accepting her copy of the contract while I sit down with the other copy. I call down the order, along with a chicken sandwich for myself, before turning my full attention to the contract.
“I would like to get this done with as soon as possible,” I murmur while scanning the contents. “My secretary was kind enough to come in today, and I'd like to let her go home soon.”
“Is that your way of trying to rush me through This? Using your secretary to hurry me up?”
“No matter what you might think, not everything I do has an ulterior motive.”
“We'll see about that.” There's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth but she keeps her head lowered, staring down at a contract that, I'm sure, she's already familiar with.
“Fifty percent deposit in advance?” I whistle softly.
“What, too much? And here I was, thinking the Cargills had all the money in the world.”
“You realize we're not going to get very far if you keep making personal comments. Ball-bustingI can handle, but you seem to be going out of your way.”
“Fair enough, but those are my terms. And I don't negotiate when it comes to that.”
“I wasn't complaining,” I feel the need to remind her. She loves having me on the defensive, so I can’t make it too easy for her. It's like every moment we spend together, I find myself fighting to get my footing. Otherwise there's nothing for me to do but slide helplessly along shifting sand while she stands above me, watching me struggle.
She's got a chip on her shoulder. I have to remember that, and I have to accept it. With time, that will ease… I hope.
Especially since she is so damn tempting. Buttoned up, ultra professional, but seething inside. There's part of me, not even very far beneath the surface, determined to make her explode.
