Great Exploitations(4)

Of course the uncertainty would be thick when I had the biggest Errand of my career sitting a few feet away of me. Why the hell not?

Finally, Henry checked out my blouse. It wasn’t so sheer he could read what size my bra was if the tag was showing, but it was sheer enough he could make out the subtle outline of my bra . . . and it looked as though Henry was slowly doing that.

It might have been delayed, but the victory was mine nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, he pried his eyes away. “I was so focused on this stack of paperwork because it’s the first time I’ve seen it.” He lifted the first page of an application. “I’m not exactly up-and-up on the administrative tasks in my company.”

I let myself smile. He wouldn’t be getting “up-and-up” on his administrative assistant either because I’d just slipped past the front gates and was days away from usurping her throne.

“And this place does have wine and glasses”—he flicked his pint glass—“so which kind would you like?”

I leaned forward and looked at him. “You pick.”

Yet another tool in our Eve belt: let the Target order a drink for me, especially if he still seemed on the fence about our anything-but-platonic relationship. Ordering for me made him think about me. It made him wonder if I was a hard alcohol, beer, or wine girl. Once he’d made it that far—and if Henry didn’t arrive at the conclusion that I was a wine girl pretty easily, then I sucked at my job—then he had to consider if I liked white or red. From there, if I liked it sweeter or dryer . . . if I liked a full-bodied red rolling around in my mouth or a smooth, sweet white when I swallowed . . .

Everything can be turned into a game of sexual innuendoes by a woman who knows what she’s doing. Anything. Something as every day as ordering a drink included.

As I let Henry contemplate what wine to order me, he motioned at the bartender, who looked to be the only employee in the place. Hopefully someone was back in the kitchen too. Otherwise we might be waiting a while for our food.

“What the hell is a girl this pretty doing with a guy this ugly?” the aging bartender asked in a thick Irish accent as he approached us.

Henry returned his smile. “That’s classified information, Tom.”

“Eh? About as classified as . . .” Tom stopped at our table and glanced down at the stack of papers. The top sheet had the Callahan Industries name and logo, followed by the words Employment Application. “I don’t know whether to applaud you or give you a swift shake for stooping to the terrible cliché of getting a beautiful woman beneath you.”

Henry’s eyes widened as Tom’s did. Mine stayed the same . . . I’d heard and done far worse.

“And by beneath you, I meant strictly in an employment capacity. Not the . . . er . . . the other way.” Tom’s face went a few shades red, then he shot me an apologetic look.

“And here I was thinking I was the only smooth operator out there. Good to know I’ve got company.” Henry winked at Tom before lifting his hand in my direction. “Now that we’re all feeling properly awkward . . . Eve, what would you like to drink? I don’t want to order you the wrong thing and have you turn down the job as my punishment.”

I could have looked for a wine menu—if an Irish pub actually had one—or I could have asked Tom what they served, but that defeated the whole point, right? “I don’t know what they have, and I promise I won’t quit if you order the wrong thing. At least not this time.” I gave him a sly smile. “Besides, you know what I like.” I kept my eyes on Henry’s as he worked out what to order. As he went through the red versus white, sweet versus dry, heavy versus light maze . . . and then . . .

“The lady will have a Guinness,” Henry said confidently, which made me feel less confident.

I’d mentioned wine. I’d been giving the wine vibe. I’d been manipulating the situation so one thought would lead him to the next to the next to thinking about me beneath or on top or sideways in bed with him. I’d done it a hundred times. It wasn’t my first rodeo.

. . . And Henry ordered me a Guinness.

Apparently, it was my first rodeo. Of course Henry would prove to be the one exception to every trick in my book. Why go and make my life easy?

“A beautiful woman who drinks Guinness at lunch.” Tom covered his heart with his hands and glanced at my hand. My left hand. “And is single? There’s still hope for me after all.” Wagging his brows at Henry, he winked at me before going back to the bar.

“Yeah, and if I thought you had half a chance with her and were a tenth deserving of her, I might actually introduce you,” Henry called after him.