You see, I’m not sure I agree with Cam’s business model. He wants to grow the company by adding fashion brands that complement Simon Warren. I think he might be better off considering taking over companies that have a decent share in markets Simon Warren is not in, and turning them into Simon Warren locations. It will be the fastest way to grow the brand.
Talking with Austin Mars will help me better assess his company and its disposition before knowing for certain if my idea is viable with his brand.
Maggie and I are down at Pier 59 Studios and have to meet her mother for dinner at seven, which is just over an hour from now.
Leaning against the wall outside the large room where the show was just held, I can tell Maggie’s feet are killing her. She wore sky-high heeled boots all day and slid on the ice at least twice that I’m aware of.
I glance at my watch again. Shit, we’re going to be cutting it close.
The minutes tick by as we wait for Austin to finish his meet-and-greet. With each passing tick of the clock, I begin to worry about cutting the meeting times too close.
Maggie looks down at her watch, and I can tell time is becoming a concern to her as well.
The buffer zone now clearly beyond both our comfort levels, I turn to her. “Hey, why don’t you go and have dinner with your mother, and then I’ll meet you both for drinks at the hotel at nine.”
As expected, she can’t just agree with me. Sometimes she infuriates me with her willpower. Which she is doing right now as she shakes her head no. “No, it’s fine. I can just let my mother know we might be late. She’ll understand.”
Although I have to say that keeping things professional with Maggie has been easier than I thought, sometimes I have to take a deep breath. Sure, she has her job, and I have mine, and when we’re not vying for control like right now, we actually work well together, but the bottom line is I’m in charge.
That holds true both in and out of the bedroom.
However, I’m not a fucking idiot. I know playing that card is a huge risk, and believe it or not, I’m willing to take it.
Approaching the situation with finesse, I lean toward her. When I catch a whiff of her delicious scent, I feel my excitement right in my dick.
Fuck.
Breathing her in, it becomes glaringly evident that it has been more than twelve hours since I have been inside her.
Fuck.
Drawing in a deep breath, I force myself to insist she go. I know her feet are killing her, I can tell by the way she’s standing, and also, I really hate to keep her mother waiting. “Maggie, you should go,” I tell her.
She worries her lip with her teeth. “No, I shouldn’t. I should stay with you to facilitate the meeting with Austin.”
I want to nip at that lip, but resist the urge. “Mag . . . gie.” I draw out her name in insistence.
She grabs hold of my tie and pretends to be straightening it when she’s really tugging on it as if to strangle me. “I heard he likes good-looking men in suits.”
A quick glance around tells me everyone else from Simon Warren is gone, so I put my mouth on her ear and lick around it. “Jealous?”
She tugs on my tie harder. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
I laugh and plant a quick kiss on her lips. “I’m a big boy and can handle him. Promise. Now call the car service, and I’ll grab a cab.”
She releases her hold on me and visibly sags against the wall. I can tell she’s beyond exhausted. I am too. We hardly slept last night and have been on the go all day. “I left my phone in my purse, which is in the lockers at the back entrance,” she sighs.
I move a little closer. “We could trade services.”
Her brows pull together. “What are you thinking? Maybe I could blow you right here and in exchange you’ll get my bag for me?”
I make a show of looking around. “Would you mind? I don’t think people will notice, do you?”
Her lips lift into a smile. “And you call me crazy.”
Pulling my phone from my suit pocket, I hand it to her. “Make the call. I’ll be right back.”
By the time I return with her purse in my hand, she’s talking to a man with dark brown hair that is combed straight back over his round skull.
When I’m close enough, Maggie outstretches her hand. We exchange her purse for my phone and before I can say a word to her, Austin Mars is right up in my face. He grabs my hand before I even have a chance to lift it. He starts shaking it vigorously. With a huge smile he says, “Ahhh, Keen, Keen—you and I must become fast friends.”
In the whirlwind of him talking on and on about how young and wonderful I am, I find it hard to follow him. To be honest, I’m too busy trying to follow his enormous jowls, which seem to sway back and forth like sails on a rough ocean.