Chapter Five
Taylor
A waiter brings a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two champagne flutes on a small wooden tray, which he sets in the sand. Seth stands to thank him, and I pretend not to notice the cash he slips him. As the man walks away, Seth sits beside me and pours us each a glass.
“To flirting with indulgence,” he says, holding up his glass with a wicked glint in his eyes.
I might be too out of practice to keep up with this man, but I do love a challenge. “To you, for making it easy.” I tap my glass to his, then down half my champagne in an effort to calm my nerves.
He notices and chuckles, which, strangely, helps take the edge off more than the champagne does.
“So, tell me about Taylor’s secret sister,” he says as we start eating. “What do you do for a living? What’s your life like?”
Oh boy. I didn’t think this through. Of course he wants to know more about me.
The man never makes a move without overanalyzing it first. On the heels of that thought comes a nerve-racking one.
Did he overanalyze me when I was getting ready for dinner?
Something tells me he did. My nerves prickle, but since he initiated flirting, I decide to take it as a compliment.
I just wish I hadn’t started this whole charade.
I hate lying, and I want to get to know Seth better, so I vow to be as honest as I possibly can without blowing my cover.
“My life is not very exciting. I’m a virtual assistant, like Taylor, and I volunteer at a local animal shelter when I can.
” I eat a piece of spiced meat, and it melts in my mouth.
I use that pause to change the subject. “This is delicious. You have to try it.” I stab another piece of meat and hold it out for him.
“So you were a secret sharer all along,” he says before eating it.
“I’ll never tell,” I tease, and gaze out at the water, hoping I can pull this off as I finish my champagne.
He finishes his champagne, and as he refills our glasses, he says, “It’s interesting that you and Taylor are both VAs. Do you enjoy it?”
“Yes, very much. My clients can be interesting, but that comes with the territory.”
Seth lifts his chin. “‘Interesting’ as in shady characters or ‘interesting’ as in the work is intellectually stimulating?”
“Are those the only two options?” I muse.
“You tell me,” he tosses back.
“I think they can be a lot of things at once. They’re definitely not shady, and they all have quirks, but my favorite client is one of the greatest guys I know.
” Greatest is too pat a word to describe Seth.
He’s warmer and more wonderful, interesting, and fun than I imagined, but saying all of that would make me sound like I’m lusting after my client.
Which I am, but he doesn’t need to know it.
“That said, they’re each demanding in their own way, which isn’t a bad thing.
I thrive on challenges and would lose my mind if the work wasn’t intellectually stimulating. ”
He leans in, his voice low and amused. “Demanding I can relate to.”
“You seem pretty easygoing to me.” I wouldn’t call Seth demanding, just very busy and meticulous, as well he should be. His reputation is on the line with every deal.
“I can be easygoing in my personal life.” He eats a shrimp, his expression turning contemplative. “But the truth is, I have high standards. Probably too high across the board. Personally and professionally.”
“You’re incredibly successful. I would think that, at least professionally, your standards are where they should be.”
“I expect a lot. Ask Taylor. When I get an idea, I want to move on it, and I expect my team to keep up. That means research, analysis, meetings with various financial and legal teams.”
“I’ve read about your business. You have your fingers in many pots, like my clients. I know how much it takes to keep that going while also growing the business. You need to have high standards.”
“Do you find it hard to keep up with your clients?” he asks.
“Not at all. I love the diversity and the fast pace, and supporting their success,” I say honestly.
“But I’m not the one doing the analysis or strategic planning or making the decisions to buy businesses or buildings.
There are so many facets to being an executive at that level.
My clients rely on teams of experts and the analysis of the data they produce.
But if one team drops the ball, or if there’s an error in the analysis, it can lead to decisions made on poor data, which can have a domino effect down the line.
It’s incredible to me that any one person can handle that kind of pressure. ”
He studies me for a long moment, and I wonder if I said too much. Before I can backpedal, he says, “That’s the pressure I thrive on, but I also rely on my gut instincts. They never lead me astray.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, if you rely on your instincts, why do you feel like your standards are too high personally?”
“Because I don’t suffer fools well. It’s rare to find someone who can keep up like you can.”
My pulse quickens, and I revel in the compliment.
“What else do you do, besides wrangle your clients, Ellie?” He spears a shrimp with his fork, but his eyes remain trained on me.
“I have a small artistic side gig.”
“A side gig, huh? I’d love to hear about it.” He leans in like I’ve given him the juiciest gossip.
“I design logos and merchandise for a handful of writers and authors. Mostly around the travel industry, but I have a few other clients, too.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Very much, and I get advance copies of the books, which is a bonus.”
He offers me another piece of lobster, which I happily eat, as he asks, “Are you a big reader?”
“I love to read, but I mostly listen to audiobooks while I’m driving, or when I go for walks, which I also enjoy. Nothing beats curling up with a good book and a cup of tea or a glass of wine in the evening, except maybe drawing. It’s a toss-up, depending on my mood.”
He smiles. “A beautiful, creative bookworm? Now you’re speaking my language. But while I’m a big reader, and I have a creative mind for business, I have zero artistic abilities.”
“You single-handedly built an empire. It’s hard to believe there’s anything you can’t do.”
“This will probably cost me my superhero cape, but let me enlighten you.” He leans back on his palms in the sand and crosses his legs at the ankles, looking so relaxed and handsome, I want to move the plates to be closer to him.
“When we were kids, we made gifts for each other. My brothers would draw or whittle things. They’d make awesome boxes for my dad and picture frames for my mom, and my sister would make bracelets and necklaces.
And what did I do? One year I gave my brother Clay a handwritten ledger so he could track his profits as a football star when he got older.
He used it to draw football plays. Another year I wrapped up a rock and told my sister it was an investment, because rocks never depreciate. ”
Laughter bubbles out of me. “You did not.”
“I did, and I was proud of those gifts,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “I even made coupons one year, but my siblings didn’t appreciate a coupon good for one lesson on how to barter with Dad.”
I crack up, but I love knowing these things about him. He must have been so cute, proudly presenting his presents to his family like a little businessman.
“I’m telling you, I have no artistic ability, and according to my family, I give the worst gifts.” He sits up and grabs his glass, tipping it toward me. “But, on the upside, that’s how my parents figured out how my brain worked, and I’d say I’ve fared pretty well.” He takes a drink.
“Yes, you have, and I think those gifts were very creative. I would be proud to get one, so please put me on your Christmas list.”
A grin slides into place. “I will do that, but fair warning, your coupon will not have anything to do with my father and may not be quite as innocent.”
A thrill darts through me at that prospect. “Thank goodness for little favors,” I say, and he laughs. “I would also like to point out that I’m here because you gave Taylor a very generous gift, so give yourself a break.”
“That might be the best gift I’ve ever given.”
He holds my gaze for so long, I swear the temperature spikes and the air between us crackles and pops.
“Now I’ve hijacked our conversation,” he says, his deep voice cutting through the tension.
“I’m glad you did. I like knowing you were a mini businessman.”
“My brothers and sister usually call me a dork.” His smile turns unexpectedly boyish, which does funny things to my stomach.
“Guess I have a thing for dorks.” I have no idea what he’s doing to me, but I didn’t even try to hold that back.
“In that case”—he waggles his brows—“let me show you my pocket protector.”
We both laugh.
“A’right, El, time to spill your secrets. Did you go to school for design? How’d you get into working with authors?”
“I double majored in business and graphic design, and while I was in school, I was involved with a sisterhood called the Ladies Who Write, which was like a sorority without all the rules. We were just a bunch of girls who bonded over all types of writing. One of them went on to become a travel author. I designed a few things for her book launch, and word got around.”
“Really?” he says with surprise. “My brother Flynn and his wife work for LWW’s Discovery Hour show. Come to think of it, my cousin’s business partner, Knox Bentley, is married to one of the original founders of LWW.”