9. Cooper #2
“Thank you for being so understanding and please enjoy breakfast on us in the morning. It’s served until ten in our fine dining restaurant,” the receptionist responds, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he points to the restaurant to the right of the entrance.
With our keys in hand, we make our way to the bank of elevators to the left of the reception desk. I can’t help but lean into Meghan, whispering in her ear, “I’m sorry for my comment. I’ll be more careful with what I say going forward.”
She’s tense, but I can’t tell if it's down to my proximity or that there is only one room.
I’m sitting in the only chair in the room, that just so happens to face the two queen size beds and bathroom door, waiting for Meghan to get ready for our business dinner with Jamison. She’s been in there a while and I’m starting to get worried.
As I’m contemplating knocking on the door, she pulls in open and is framed in the doorway. She looks beautiful. Her outfit’s the perfect mixture of business and pleasure.
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” she whispers, staring down at herself.
She’s wearing a black, form-fitting dress that showcases her curves to perfection, and on her feet are a pair of open toe strappy heels.
“No…” I clear my throat and sit up straighter in the chair. “You look… beautiful.”
The compliment causes her to blush, and she tries to hide it by busying herself around the room, filling a small clutch with items. Tucking her hair behind her ear draws my attention to the long blonde locks that are cascading down to her waist in loose curls.
“I had another dress in my suitcase, but my friend must have switched it out… well, it actually looks like she switched out everything… including my underwear, if you can believe that,” she rambles on. “It’s just like her to do something like that.”
Standing, I move toward her and place my hands on her hips, turning her toward me.
A jolt runs through my fingers at the contact.
It blows my mind the effect such a simple thing has on me.
Her lips part as her breathing turns shallow, and her eyes widen as she stares up at me.
In all the time we’ve worked together, I have never once touched her in this way and the fact we are in a room with a bed, alone, adds to the intimacy.
“You look perfect,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to her lips as her tongue darts out and swipes across them. My gaze roams freely over her features and I notice the natural look she’s gone for with her makeup.
“We should get going,” she states as she pulls back from me and turns toward the door, throwing an oversized black blazer over her shoulders as she does.
“Um, yeah.”
I grab my wallet from the sideboard and follow her out of the door.
The cab ride to the restaurant is uneventful, and she barely says two words to me, opting to stare out of the window at the passing scenery.
I hold the door open for her as she steps onto the sidewalk.
Placing my hand at her lower back, we walk toward the entrance of the restaurant Jamison has picked .
It’s not until we’re being shown to our table and I force my gaze away from her that I notice the eyes of nearly every man in the restaurant tracking her.
I’ve made a mistake. A very grave mistake.
I should have ripped that fucking dress off of her the moment she walked out of the bathroom.
I’m more certain of this as I sit opposite Meghan and Jamison, watching them flirt like I’m not even here.
Thankfully, I guess, they didn’t start until business was done, but the urge to punch him and throw her over my shoulder like a caveman only seems to be building.
I knock back my whiskey and signal to a passing waiter for another one.
We're in a booth at the back of the restaurant. The setting is intimate with dim lighting and secluded booths, but the food, though expensive, is delicious and well worth the cost.
I made the mistake of having Meghan seated in the middle of the booth with myself and Jamison opposite each other.
Throughout the evening, he’s scooted closer to her and his arm is now casually draped behind her. Every time he leans in to whisper something to her my fists clench.
Unlike when my father got in her personal space, Meghan doesn’t seem phased by Jamison.
She’s laughing at his jokes and, on more than one occasion, has leaned into him and rested her hand on his thigh.
The waiter returns with my drink, and I gulp down half of the contents as Meghan releases another husky laugh .
“Do you want to come and party with us, Cooper?” Jamison asks, a sly smile on his face.
Party? Us?
What the hell have I missed?
I narrow my eyes at him, hoping it conveys the message I want before saying, “No, Meghan and I need to get an early night. We have a call in the morning at 6 am.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Meghan’s brow pulling into a frown at my statement. She knows we don’t have a call in the morning—tomorrow morning is my planned beach time.
“Surely you don’t need Megs with you. She deserves a break after working for you for so long.” Jamison chuckles.
Megs ? They’ve known each other a whole two hours, and he’s already got a nickname for her.
“I’m not paying her to be on vacation,” I state, more forcefully than I intended.
My eyes dart over to Meghan as she sits up in her seat, sobering up.
Fuck .
Why did I have to go and say that? What I should be doing is letting her go off and have a good time.
The problem is, I can’t. She’s mine . I stand from the table and hold my hand out for Meghan, my eyes not leaving Jamison.
Reluctantly, she takes it and shuffles around to exit the booth, throwing her blazer over her arm.
“I’ll be in touch regarding the move soon,” I say, before throwing a couple of hundred dollar bills on the table .
“It was nice to meet you,” Meghan states, her voice husky as she holds her hand out to Jamison. He stands from the booth and pulls her into his arms, whispering something I don’t catch in her ear before handing her a card. “Of course, I’ll see you soon.”
She walks past me and I turn on my heel to follow, my hand going to the small of her back. I’m aware that I killed her mood, but the feeling festering inside of me couldn’t be tamed.
We’re sitting in the back of the cab and she’s looking out of the window when she speaks, “What is the call we have in the morning? I don’t remember putting anything in.”
I’m flicking through my emails on my phone, unable to look her in the eye.
“We don’t have a call.” I don’t expand on it and she doesn’t ask me any further questions. Neither of us utter a word after that as we head back to the hotel.
We get ready for bed in silence, taking turns to use the bathroom. The lights are off and we’re in our own beds. I can hear the sound of the ocean outside and it soothes me as I pull in a deep breath before breaking the silence.
I need to clear the air with her, because the conversation we had in my office didn’t do shit to make me forget the line we’ve crossed.
“We should talk about what happened the other week.”