That first Greg-free morning had been the arrival of the first gift, a bouquet of roses so red I’d checked to be sure they were real and not like the plastic ones Nana keeps on her bureau.
Wednesday it had been a pair of silver hoop earrings to replace the one I’d lost on the subway. Today I am staring and blushing at the contents of the Victoria’s Secret bag sitting on my desk.
There’s no way in hell I would ever buy underwear that skimpy for myself, and obviously he knows it. The phone rings, and I drag myself out of my daydreams to answer with a crisp and hopefully not breathless “Hello?”
“Hannah! Hi!”
My eyes close and I force myself not to put the phone down in reflex, knowing she’ll only call back. While I’ve been walking on clouds and loving it, I’ve also been bombarded with wedding arrangements by Selena.
“Hello, Miss Jeffries.”
“Oh, don’t be so formal, Hannah. We’re friends now! Call me Lena. Anyhow, I’m calling to find out where we should have the reception. I looked at Starlight and The Carlton Grand, but they’re both so great I can’t decide which one I like best,” she laments, and I grind my teeth to keep from cursing.
What difference will it make what I think? I’m just a lowly PA with a huge secret that makes us natural enemies. Not best friends.
“I can’t say. They’re both great. Go with Starlight if you intend to leave for the airport the same day,” I say, willing myself to speak without sounding as if I’m in pain. “The Carlton if you’re staying over and catching a flight the day after.”
Please let that be all, I beg silently as Lucy walks in, giving me a probing look. Selena trills happily, and I’m relieved when she rings off with a squeal of delight instead of another task for me.
“You look like you just swallowed toxic waste.”
“I’m fine. What can I do for you?” I ask, avoiding that can of worms.
“Oh, nothing really, I’m just bored. Jack and Owens left for that conference in Chicago, and what with everything in the packing stages I’m at loose ends,” she sighs, flopping onto the sofa.
I wish I could say the same, but apparently Gregory Lucas is a machine, and our office is pumping with correspondence and phone calls. The only reason I’m not a phone-answering zombie by now is that his other PA, Kimmy, is handling stuff on her end while I handle the agency and travel arrangements.
“What happened to you this morning, anyway? You look like you got hit by a train when you walked in.”
Only because, if it hadn’t been for the guy standing beside me on the platform, I would have been. Hit by a train, that is. The platform had been crammed this morning, and I’d been jostled just as the train was pulling in.
When I’d realized I was falling…well, let’s just say I will be forever grateful to that stranger for his reflexes. I’d been a second away from falling straight onto the tracks when he’d grabbed me.
Unfortunately, my momentum had not been ideal and I’d fallen flat on my ass and now sport a scraped elbow, what I suspect is a goose egg on the back of my head, and an ass that hurts to sit on.
I am not what you’d call graceful, so I am not unscathed. Alive, thank God, but a little banged up.
“Some asshole on the subway decided he couldn’t stand still. I almost did a header onto the tracks,” I say as I check my inbox and fire off a quick email.
“Jesus, some people are animals. You all right?”
“Eh, I’ll live.”
She stands when the conversation is stalled by my preoccupation and wags a finger at me.
“You’re no fun lately.”
“Yeah? Go see how much Taz likes being disturbed, and you can call me a stick in the mud,” I challenge.
Taz is like a madwoman lately. Even I am not going anywhere near her if I can help it. When Lucy walks off with a wave, the phone rings, and I groan before answering.
“Mr Lucas’ office.”
“Oh, darlin’, I sure do appreciate the way you say that,” he drawls, sending shiver down my spine. “How’s my girl?”
It’s corny and weird, but just hearing him call me his girl makes me happier than I should be. Seriously, who gets this giddy about a dumb phone call?
“Good. I think. I got your gift,” I breathe, blushing deeply.
“You’ll wear it for me tomorrow night,” he says, and I can hear arousal in his voice when he growls the words at me.
“I can’t.”
My knees are a torn mess and about as sexy as a case of VD. No way can I pull that thong and bra off now. Bloody knees and a swollen elbow scream emergency room, not let’s have wild monkey sex.