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I wanted to strangle him. He just started laughing again.
“Well, first of all, fun is relative,” Brandon said after he swallowed again. “I like my jobs, and they’re what I spend most of my time doing. On the rare occasion I have an extra moment, I’m in my shop. Otherwise, my spare time is mostly taken up by a host of other things that aren’t particularly fun.”
“Such as?” When his only answer was a raised eyebrow, I pushed. “Okay. Run me through the average day for Brandon Sterling.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said with a wink as he used two fingers to drag his phone across the counter. He opened the screen to his calendar.
Color coded and filled to capacity, the page was an elaborate mosaic. I gawked at the sheer enormity of multitasking someone like Brandon had to take on: conference call meetings while en route to London, contract negotiations over dinner, playing squash with a prospective client. Just about seven days a week, the chaos started with a 5:30 a.m. workout with his trainer and often didn’t end until ten at night or later. The only exceptions I saw were the places where a small white box interrupted the schedule every Friday and Saturday evening bearing just one word: Red.
“Didn’t you think to ask me first?” I chastised him, though I couldn’t keep the silly grin off my face. “Maybe I’m busy on the weekends. I have a schedule too, you know.”
Brandon just gave me that delicious half smile that made me want to jump him all over again. “I’m being optimistic. Okay, my turn.”
I opened my own calendar and passed it to him. I was almost as disciplined about keeping it up as he (or Margie) was, but it wasn’t nearly as full. During the week, my days were a combination of classes, allotted study/reading times, clinic hours, and at least four or five swims a week. Brandon thumbed through a few different pages and tapped in something before handing the phone back to me.
“There,” he said, returning to his breakfast. “Now you’ve got me in there too. Hope you don’t mind, but I shared your calendar with my assistant too.”
“Does Margie really care about my class schedule?” I asked, to which I received another sly wink.
“Margie cares about anything that makes her job easier,” Brandon replied. “And that includes the schedule for the most important person in my life.” He grinned and shoved another big bite of eggs in his mouth.
Whoa. Most important person? Was it weird that he was saying something like that so quickly? Was it even weirder that I liked it so much? Unable to hide the blush that immediately rose, I looked down at my phone instead of at him.
He’d scheduled a repeating event on the same days and times he’d put “Red” on his calendar. The green boxes were marked “BS.” I laughed out loud and leaned in to kiss Brandon on his wrinkled nose before clearing my dishes.
Brandon frowned as he watched me. “Red, just leave it. Ana will take care of that.”
“I don’t mind. I know you probably have to get going soon anyway.”
“Babe, it’s what I pay her for. I didn’t take the weekend off so I could watch you clean.”
I set the dishes in the sink and turned to stare at him. “You what?”
The mosaic calendar flashed through my mind—I must have swiped right past this weekend’s blank spaces. I knew now what a major undertaking a day off work likely was for him, and how frustrating it probably was for his assistant.
Brandon just grinned.
“I’m the boss,” he said, as if it didn’t matter that he’d canceled several appointments with undoubtedly important people who had probably been waiting weeks or even months for his time. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. Sue me.”
“They might,” I joked, but obediently returned, allowing myself to be pulled into the shelter of his arms.
“One night,” Brandon said, “is not enough. Can you take the weekend too? Or at least stay here?”
Although the delicious scratch of his nibbles around my jaw made it hard to concentrate, mentally I went over the different work I needed to get done before Monday. I was already ahead on most of my reading, and I didn’t have anything written due until Thursday.
“I think so,” I said between a few increasingly shallow breaths. “I only have a few things to take care of for the clinic, but they can wait until tomorrow.”
“Are they at your place?” he asked, although his words were a bit muddled against the skin below my ear.
I nodded, unable to answer properly as he took my earlobe between his teeth and tugged.
“Great,” he replied, releasing me suddenly.
“Hey!” I opened my eyes, ready to complain, only to find him stretching his arms up toward the crown molding overhead, causing his shirt to rise above a few tantalizing muscles. I ogled openly.
“We can swing by there and pick up whatever you need,” he said with a wicked grin when he noticed my expression. “So, you’ll stay?”
I blinked, brought out of my ab-induced daze. “What? Oh. Um, sure, I guess. Are you sure you want me to?” His house was so pristine, so perfect—as much as I liked it, I was scared to muss anything up.
