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“No, I am neither of them. I can deal with cheese and love a good piece of meat,” I say. “Want some of the salad?”
“I would love some,” he says and stops to kiss me.
Once the food is plated, I carry it into the dining room while Jack cracks open the sparkling water.
“You don’t drink?” I asked him.
“Nope,” he says, setting the bottle before me.
“Did you have a problem?” I ask.
I rise quickly and reach into the sideboard for coasters. I place one under each of our drinks. I get up one more time for salt and pepper.
“I did not have a problem,” he says. “But I come from people who did.”
“Same,” I say. “I don’t drink either.”
That is the sum total of our conversation on that subject. I cut up a pear and added it to my salad.
“So, did you get in trouble with that woman?” I ask. “I notice your phone isn’t ringing all the time. She’s the one you should have Nick bully.”
“Oh my God,” he erupts. “I don’t think I am going to ever get over that. I might have to fire him.”
“He said that it was only a matter of time before I had to be out,” I tell him. “And you will cut off the utilities and place armed guards here 24/7. They’re going to need utilities, so maybe cutting them off isn’t a great idea.”’
“Like I said, he talks to Gretchen,” he says, sipping from his bottle.
“Are they a thing?” I asked, suddenly inspired by an idea. “Because you know, she and I are a type.”
“I have no idea,” he says. “I discourage that kind of thing.”
I hunch in, leaning on the table. “You mean like sleeping with the enemy?” I grin. “Nick says you had to spend all afternoon convincing your, um, admirer that you and I weren’t sleeping together. She’s not going to show up here, is she?”
“No,” he says succinctly. “How about we do not talk about Adrianne?”
“I am fine with that,” I say. “But what I was asking is, I think Gretchen and Todd would be cute together.”
“You want me to sacrifice my receptionist to mend his heart?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.
I shrug.
“I do that,” I say. “Fix things for other people.”
“Like kissing me in front of Adrianne,” he says studiously.
I nod.
“Well, how come you don’t fix you?” he asks.
My eyebrows nearly fly off my face.
“I need fixing?” I laugh.
“How to put this delicately?” he says, cutting off the tip of the cheese wedge. He holds it up, offering it to me.
“Open for me,” he says so sensually that I think I will melt in my chair.
I do as I am told, and he feeds me.
