Right Billionaire, Wrong Wedding (Sexy Billionaires)(19)

Not for you, his brain told him. They’d worked together for four years without the thought of her crossing his mind in anything but a professional capacity.

Well…mostly.

She turned and her eyes landed on him. A welcoming smile lit her face and caused something to squeeze within his chest.

Forcing himself back into motion, he closed the distance between them.

“Double double,” he said, holding out her coffee.

“My favorite,” she replied, pulling her hands out of her pockets to accept the drink.

He watched her take a sip then close her eyes as she released a blissful sigh. “Perfect. Thanks.”

“I’ve got you covered.” And he did. He knew her coffee order, her Thai food preferences, her favorite topping combinations on pizza. She liked to switch to herbal tea after six o’clock unless they had to pull an all-nighter, in which case she took her coffee black. He knew more about Allison’s likes and dislikes than the last ten women he’d dated combined.

“Are you all set for this?” she asked, opening her eyes, though she kept her cup cradled against her lower lip.

“As I’ll ever be.” His gaze lingered on her mouth. “Think we’ll have any luck?”

She let out a soft laugh. “We’d better. I’m not giving you another Saturday. It was nearly impossible to crawl out of my nice warm bed today.”

There was nothing salacious about the words, but his mind immediately conjured images of a sleepy Allison, beckoning him to climb under the covers with her. Was she a pajamas sort of woman or did she prefer satin and lace? Or better yet, nothing at all?

He hissed out a breath.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he replied.

She frowned at him, but let it slide. “Come on, let’s head in. I scoped out a few booths I think we should take a look at.”

Following her into the market, he saw a long line of stalls bursting with colorful blooms. Though he could identify the odd rose or tulip, beyond that he was lost.

“I don’t suppose they have a map or something,” he mused.

“What, you want an app that will direct you to the exact right stall we’re searching for? Siri, lead me to peonies.”

“Who needs Siri when I have you?”

She tossed him a smile over her shoulder. “Truer words have never been spoken.” She pulled out a sheet of paper from her bag then handed it to him.

“English garden roses, dahlias, and ranunculuses.” He frowned. “Ranunculi?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” she said, pressing against his side to study the sheet. The scent of lavender wafted from her hair, making it far harder for him to think than it should have. “I did some research last night. These are the flowers that look somewhat similar to peonies but actually grow this time of year.”

He blinked. “You did that?” He hadn’t even had time to think twice about this expedition.

She looked up at him, obviously attempting to drown him in the dark depths of her eyes. “I’d do anything for you.” His mouth went dry before she added, “And Jenny, of course. I’m just as committed as you are to making this wedding perfect. If that requires a little more research, so be it.”

What else had he expected from his ever-perfect assistant? Allison had come today with her mind on their mission. The least he could do was get his out of the gutter.

Come on, King. You’re better than this, he scolded himself. Time to step up to the task.

And stop the inappropriate thoughts dancing through his mind.

…

Why is he looking at me like that? Allison turned away, breaking eye contact.

“Thank you,” he said. “For the extra work.”

“Uh, you’re welcome. Come on, let’s check out stall number one.” Normally she’d wrap a hand around his arm to guide him where they needed to be, but today she kept her hands by her sides. Why did she feel so off kilter?

Was it the clothes? She ran a hand over her jeans. It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to get dressed today. Her first instinct had been to reach for one of the suits that filled her closet, but then she’d realized how strange it would be to show up at a morning market dressed for the office.

Then had come the endless debate of jeans versus skirts. Running shoes or boots. Collared shirt or T-shirt.

A decision that wouldn’t have caused her much stress a week ago suddenly seemed far too important.

All because of that damned gazebo.

She’d spent the last few days trying to avoid thinking about it. And Darian certainly hadn’t brought it up.

Not that his silence on the subject bothers you. Right?

Gillian’s words had wormed their way into her head. Any other woman would take advantage of any opportunity Darian offered. He was an attractive man, both inside and out. And she had a ticking clock. Yes, that kiss might have forever changed their relationship, but in the grand scheme of things, did it matter? It’s not like Darian would keep her on speed dial once she quit. She’d lose him either way.