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SAWYER
“Am I going to have to pay some of these people off?” I lean back in my chair, sighing, rubbing my temples against an approaching headache.
There's a reason I sent the family helicopter out to Manhattan to pick her up. It's one thing for her to send a snarky comeback via text or to even hear the irritation in a voice memo. But none of that compares to the site of Willow rolling her eyes at yet another one of my deliberately terrible ideas.
“Are you serious?” Before waiting for me to reply, her eyes roll, and that paired with the way she purses her lips—like she tasted something sour—does something to me. I can't help but remember what else those lips do to me.
She remembers, too. It's only Sunday, not even two days since I said fuck it and kissed her. I see it in the way she averts her gaze whenever our eyes meet. She doesn't want to look me in the eye, too embarrassed to admit how much she wanted what flared to life between us. No way could she kiss me the way she did without wanting it. The memory threatens to get me as hard as I was in the parking lot, but this isn't the time to indulge the memories. Not when she's seated on the sofa in my office, typing on the MacBook balanced across her lap.
“What?” I ask, because playing dumb makes all of this that much more entertaining. It's too much fun, seeing how far I can push her before she snaps.
“I'm pretty sure it's illegal to pay people off.”
“It wouldn't be like that,” I protest, stifling a chuckle when she groans.
“Your intention doesn't matter. Bribery is bribery.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “I swear, I don't know how you managed to get the CEO position at this place.”
Before I can say a word, she snaps her fingers. “Of course. Your daddy. How silly of me.”
It should infuriate me, this condescending attitude she cops. The way she lowers her brow and all but growls whenever I come up with an admittedly terrible idea. What can I say? I like getting under her skin. That's not the only thing I’d like to get under, come to think of it…
Down, boy. I need to be careful if I don’t want to end up being sued for inappropriate behavior or something like that. It's one thing to send her flowers, which have gone unmentioned, or even to text her the way I did yesterday morning to ask if we can have a proper date. She ignored that, too. I have to give her credit for sticking to her guns and being professional. Hell, when I step out of the situation and look at it from an outsider’s perspective, I find her resolve admirable.
But as it turns out, her resolve is getting in the way of me getting what I want. Funny how my priorities are muddled now. Yes, I very clearly remember the reason I reached out to her to begin with, but there's no ignoring the tension crackling through the room. How she can pretend the way she does is beyond me.
“Do me a favor and don't talk about my father,” I suggest, grimacing at the thought of him. “He is very far away, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. Meaning I don't even want him at the forefront of my thoughts.”
She's good, but not good enough to conceal her glee. “I thought he was the entire reason we were doing this.”
“That doesn't mean I want to think about him if I can avoid it.”
“Fair enough.” Though she's still grinning to herself when she pulls out her legal pad and checks her notes.
While she's distracted, I have no choice but to indulge in every inch of her. It's a Sunday, and it's just the two of us, so neither of us is in our usual business attire. She wears a modest dress with ruffled sleeves that match the ruffles along the hem which grazes the middle of her calves. Rather than her mile-high stilettos, she wears a pair of flats, and her hair is pulled back in a simple, low ponytail.
In other words, it seems like she's trying to play down her looks. Minimal makeup, little jewelry. What is she trying to do? Not turn me on? That's about as likely right now as me learning to breathe underwater. No, if anything, I can appreciate her natural beauty without the designer labels getting in the way.
Hunger stirs as I watch her tap her pen against her bottom lip. Every once in a while she catches the cap between her teeth—I don't know why the action leaves me breathless, glued to her every move.
Somehow I force myself to pull it together when she looks my way once again. “So what else do we have on the agenda today?” I ask, clearing my throat and sitting up a bit straighter. She wants to pretend the kiss never happened, and I have no choice but to play along if only for now. Until I catch her in the right mood again, anyway.
“There are still a few people who won't budge,” she says with a sigh. “Not city council, but people who have pull in the community. A couple of them are on your board, in fact. And if they're still pissed at you and don’t want you as CEO...”
“They'll bend the council's ear,” I conclude with a groan. Just like that, all thoughts of her enticing perfume are wiped away.
“We need to get those people on your side.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“I have my ways.”
I arch an eyebrow. The woman knows how to get my attention. “Enlighten me.”
“For one thing, one of the men has a gambling problem.”
Now both eyebrows shoot straight up. “Who?”
“Not so fast, hot shot. I don't blab information like that so easily.”
