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SAWYER
“Already, we have people calling to reserve dates six, eight, ten months from now.” Brooks raises his glass to me from his seat on the other side of my desk. “I have to admit, you pulled it off.”
After all this work, doubt, and anxiety, a nice glass of Scotch goes down smoother than ever. “What can I say? I'm just that good.”
“You mean you just so happened to call somebody who is just that good.”
“Silly me, thinking my little brother would grant me a small bit of leeway for once.”
“Not a chance.”
Setting my glass aside, I eye him carefully. Aside from our present banter, he’s been strangely quiet and humorless since the groundbreaking a few days ago. “I've been meaning to ask you. How are things between you and Quinn? Has he finally calmed down?”
He winces before shrugging. “I’m honestly not sure. He says everything's fine, but something tells me it's only because Zoe's out of town again. Oh, well. It's for the best.” He looks genuinely crestfallen, and I can't help but wonder if for once he wishes he didn’t play the field so aggressively.
“I’m sorry to hear that. You two looked like you were having a good time, too.”
He bolts back the rest of his drink before shrugging. “Anyway, it’s in the past. I’d better get downstairs—there’s a newly engaged couple coming in to take a tour before they schedule their reception. I’ll hand it to that girlfriend of yours.”
“You’ll hand what to me?”
I can’t stifle a chuckle when he turns in the chair to find Willow watching from the doorway. In her tailored suit and stilettoes, she’s the picture of a professional. She’s also the sexiest, most irresistible thing I’ve ever seen.
Brooks stammers before clearing his throat. “Oh. I was about to compliment you on the work you’ve done to keep the club in the news. I can’t keep up with all the phone calls.”
“Mm-hmm.” When he makes a pained noise, she giggles and waves a hand. “Come on. I’m messing with you. There are another four news spots scheduled for the coming weeks to keep the public abreast of the new construction, too. So get ready for more calls.”
“She’s good,” he tells me with a sigh as he stands. “And she’s making me earn my salary.”
“Speaking of which…” I lower my brow before jerking my chin toward the door. Get out of here and give me a minute alone with my girl. He gets the message and, with a slight salute, saunters out of the office before closing the door behind him.
“Alone at last.” I flash a wolfish grin before standing, extending my arms. “Come here.”
“Not until I get your eyes on this agreement for the interview I scheduled with the Times.” She holds up a folder, her brow lifting in expectation.
“I’d rather get my eyes on something else…” I’m a hair’s breadth from touching her when she darts away, shaking her head.
“Come on, now,” she chides, though there’s soft laughter in her voice. “I want to get this finished before I head back.”
Just like that, my excitement falters. The thought of her returning to Manhattan is about as effective a boner killer as anything I can think of. “Who says you have to go back?” I ask as we face each other from opposite ends of the desk.
“Let’s see.” She holds up one finger. “My landlord.” A second. “My plants, which Sarah has been tending while I’ve been here.”
“I’ll take care of your lease, and you can bring your plants here.”
She barks out a disbelieving laugh, her gaze never drifting from my face. I can see the wheels turning in that methodical brain of hers. “You aren’t serious.”
“Who says?” I sweep an arm toward the window. “This could be your view from now on—well, you could have an office of your own here at the club."
"And why would I have an office here?”
“Doesn’t it make sense for the new Cargill PR manager to have an office here at the club?”
Her eyelids flutter. “You aren’t serious.” This time, it’s a whisper.
“Why do you keep saying that? Of course, I’m serious. I want you here.”
She lowers the folder to the desk, then props her palms on the surface. “I have a business of my own.”
