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“Is everything okay?” I asked, brow creased.
“Yeah, just the generator that seems to have a thing for Joe and not for me.” She chuckled drily. I savored the levity in her voice. I’d gotten so used to her sharp and edged tone that I’d almost forgotten how intoxicating she sounded. “It decided to give up on me and only Joe knows how to get the damn thing started again.”
“If we need to replace the generator then that can be arranged,” I offered, unconsciously slipping into what Marina called ‘business mode’. “We can add it to the budget and have it all sorted by tomorrow.”
“God, no,” she said quickly. “It’s something we always do. I think Joe enjoys being handy.”
“Very well,” I conceded, pulling my notebook out and making a note to add the generator into the budget anyway.
Just in case.
“So, what did you call for?”
My throat dried up and I coughed to clear it. “I was hoping you had time for lunch again today,” I said, trying my best to sound neutral. I didn’t want her to think I was using these lunches to persuade her.
Even though that’s exactly what I hoped would happen.
“Oh,” she said softly. She hummed, the chatter of the store around her filtering through the speaker. “I can ask someone to cover for me.”
I let out a breath, unable to keep from smiling at the slight flutter in her voice. “Perfect,” I crooned into the phone. “I’ll text you the location.”
“Okay,” she said, a little breathless. My stomach flipped.
“And Frankie?” I said, stopping her before she hung up.
“Yeah?”
“Wear something pretty.”
I hung up before the cringe caught up with me. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to whatever higher power was listening that Frankie hadn’t laughed the second I hung up.
God, what waswrongwith me?
I shook whatever it was off and turned back to the mirror, adjusting the waistband of my white palazzo pants. My black bralette, inspired by Reid, left an inch wide strip of skin exposed above the waistband of my pants.
I cocked my head, wondering what Frankie would see when she looked at me.
I clenched my jaw tight, unable to wrench my gaze away from Frankie as she descended the few steps that led to our table.
She’d pulled her fiery waves into a high ponytail, exposing her neck and collarbones. Her dress stopped just above her knee, tight from her chest to her hips.
My mouth turned very, very dry.
I reached for my glass, downing a gulp of water.
Her eyes met mine and she smirked, surprising me.
Little shit, I thought. She knew exactly what she was doing.
I had my work cut out for me.
The waiter pulled her chair out for her and she sat down, thanking him sweetly. She turned those glittering eyes on me, a brow cocked in interest.
And a challenge.
“What do you think?” she asked, all coy and innocent. “Is this what you had in mind?”
Not quite, I wanted to say. It was something I’d never expected her to wear. But I carefully composed my expression, burying any trace of emotion.
