Chapter 12
KATE
My roots have been freshly bleached, my brows have been waxed, and the dress I’m wearing enhances my butt and eye color, according to Mel. It’s also a tad shorter than HR policy allows, but I’ve got Becky on my side.
The boss man has no choice but to notice me today—if he’s not upset about my rejection over the weekend. It seems like he only wants to acknowledge me in the privacy of his home. Or he still has no idea who I am.
If the elevator girls were really talking about him and he makes a habit of hooking up every weekend, I’m not interested in pursuing anything more with him.
I have no desire to feel like a dirty little secret ever again.
However, if he chooses to acknowledge who I am, this could be something.
If he doesn’t, I’m going to give up entirely and move out of the country from the embarrassment of trying so hard for a man who didn’t recognize my face two nights after we hooked up.
I walk up to my desk, releasing a sigh as I see that there is no light on under his door.
I’m standing up, holding his Americano with a smile on my face as he rounds the corner. His steps falter as he sees me, green eyes narrowing in as he watches me.
“Good morning, Mr. Bradshaw. How are you?” I ask, holding out the to-go cup.
He reaches for it, our hands touching again for a few beats too long. I want nothing more than for him to pull me into his office and tell me he remembers everything and that we should replay that night right now.
“I’m well, Miss Dawson. How are you?”
I smile at him, batting my eyelashes. “I’m good. My pet turtle, Speckles, kept me up last night. I’m a little tired but not overly so.”
My mention of Speckles was intentional, hoping it would jog free a memory of our chat in the bar that night.
He blinks at me, studying my face. “I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe you should find a new place to live.”
What an odd thing to say.
“Umm, well, wherever I live, Speckles will live too.”
His gaze dips down over me for a brief moment before he nods, easing past me to enter his office.
“Right. I need you to call Caesar and make sure we’re booked for Tahiti.”
He’s going to Tahiti?
“Tahiti?”
He looks back at me as he sips from the cup. “Yes.”
Remain calm. He wouldn’t take you to Tahiti for a first date.
“Okay . . . why Tahiti? Who’s Caesar?”
I’ve seen the number in my computer, but I haven’t had to contact him before now. He opens his laptop on the desk.
“Caesar is my jet pilot. Tahiti is where Fallon’s wedding is.”
Oh, shit, I somehow keep forgetting this man comes from a billion-dollar empire. Of course he’s taking a jet to his sister’s wedding . . . in Tahiti.
I swallow as I nod my head, “Right, of course. I’ll call him.”
I turn to walk out, halting at the threshold right before I leave the office. “I was wondering . . . since this is a beach-themed wedding, are we going, like . . . barefoot in the sand?”
He told me to get a dress, but I haven’t really prepared myself for the level of fancy this party is sure to be. The most expensive dress I’ve ever bought was for prom, and I felt frivolous, spending one hundred eighty-five dollars of my dad’s hard-earned cash on it at Martin’s Bridal.
“You should probably talk to Fallon about it. No one is going to be barefoot,” he says.
I just stare at him, not believing that he wants me to ask the supermodel bride—his sister—what I should wear to her wedding. I’d rather go naked.
“Okay . . . thanks.” I smile awkwardly, turning around to return to my desk.
“Miss Dawson?”
Would it be so hard to call me Kate, or does he genuinely not know my name?
“Yes, sir?”
His eyes darken at my words, flashing to my lips for a second before returning to my eyes. “Sit.”
I obey the order on instinct. My feet carry me to the black leather chair in front of his desk, and I sink down in anticipation. If he told me to bend over this desk and hike up my skirt, I’d already have my ass in the air. My core clenches as the visual forms in my mind.
His eyes are focused on the monitor in front of him for another few moments before turning to me.
“Miss Dawson, you’ve worked here for over a week, but I feel like I barely know you.”
“What do you want to know?” I try to keep my voice casual, but it’s difficult.
He’s so pretty . . . and single.
He interlaces his fingers, elbows resting on the desk as looks at me. I’ve never seen such salacious forearms in my life. My breathing has slowed to a crawl. The mental image of his panting on top of me, arms caging me in. I squeeze my thighs together.
“I’m curious about how long you’ve lived here in Dallas.”
He leans back in a casual stance, but he’s studying my face. I squirm in my seat under his inspection.
I hate how affected I am when he doesn’t have a clue who I am. How is that even possible?
I clear my throat. “My whole life actually. My dad still lives here.”
He nods, taking a sip of his cup. “Any other family?”
“No, just us.”
“Do you see him often?”
“He has Alzheimer’s, so he’s in a nursing home on the other side of the city, but I visit a few times a week.”
He stares at me for a few seconds before shifting his stance and responding in a gentle tone. “That must be hard, Kate.”
We both freeze.
He knows my first name?!
My eyes are wide as his lips form a tiny smirk. He tugs at the collar around his neck.
“I, uh, would love to continue this, but I have—”
“Well, what about you? Did you grow up here?” I blurt out.
He relaxes back against his chair. “I did not. I grew up in Florida.”
“Please tell me you weren’t one of those surfer boys.”
He smiles. “I do surf, actually.”
“Of course you do.” I shake my head.
He’s too perfect.
“Do you?”
“Uh, have you already forgotten me tripping over my feet and crashing into your pottery? I’m like a human shipwreck.”
“You could learn. Beaches in Tahiti have great waves.”
Is my boss offering to give me surfing lessons?
I immediately picture him in board shorts slung low on his hips, and my mind knows exactly what to expect underneath his tailored suit. Thick, corded arms, tight abdominals, a deep V leading straight down to . . .
My cheeks heat, and I stand up abruptly.
“Oh, well, you should definitely carve some time out to go when we’re there. I think I hear the phone ringing!”
I rush out, but we both know there’s no ringing.