Rusty nailed(17)
I sat back in my seat, putting the cap on my pen.
“And that’s exactly what you’ll get with Jillian Designs,” I finished. Hoping that no one noticed that I’d been struggling under the table to get back into my left shoe. I’d lost it somewhere between harkening back and nodding toward the future. When I was nervous, my feet tended to go pigeon-toed.
The room was quiet.
Camden looked at me for another moment, his eyes indecipherable.
We all sat, waiting for him to say something. Finally, he sighed.
My heart sank. And there went my right shoe.
“Well, Max,” Jillian said, breaking the silence. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to think about, so we’ll make sure you and your people have everything you need to—”
“You can bring this project in on time, young lady?” he asked me directly as everyone on his side of the table had started to get up.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you think you can get this done with the budget you’ve set out here?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered, toes frozen in their quest for my shoe. Everyone else hovered in their half-standing poses.
He smiled at me, then stood up . . .
• • •
“. . . and then he said, ‘Okay, you’ve got the job,’ and walked out! Just like that!” I squealed. “I got the job!”
I was recounting the story to Simon, who had called me as soon as his plane landed in Cape Town. The biggest news of my professional career, and I had to share it with him over the phone. Ah, well.
“That’s great! Oh, babe, that’s fantastic! Damn, I wish I was there to take you out to celebrate.”
“I know, I wish you were here too. But you can kiss on me when you get back—we’ll celebrate then.”
“I’ll for sure kiss on you, plus other things.”
“Right now I’d settle for the kissing. Let me fantasize about the other things.” I sighed into the phone. I could hear him exhaling. That was his tell, right before things got out of hand . . .
“Anyway, before things get out of hand—”
“You mean before I take things in hand?” he replied in a husky tone.
“Simon, control yourself. Pretty sure you’re still in the airport, aren’t you?” I asked, my face blushing when I thought of him walking through customs with a bone diddy.
“You’re getting off on a technicality. So talk me down. You got the job, what’s next?” he asked, his voice taking on a businesslike tone. I could tell he was struggling to maintain, so I went easy on him.
“What’s next is I won’t come back up for air until the wedding, then go right back into the thick of it. Seriously, I can’t even begin to tell you how busy I’m going to be. It’s a good thing this is your busy season, because I will be swamped for the foreseeable future. I’m interviewing final candidates for the new intern tomorrow, I’m simultaneously putting the final touches on several projects that I’d normally deal with one at a time—it’s insane.”
“Insane good, though, right?” he asked, and I grinned broadly.
“Insane good, yes. I’m so glad you understand what it’s like to be wrapped up in your work. You’re kind of the best, Wallbanger.”
“I aim to please.”
“You do please; often,” I whispered, my voice taking on a husky tone.
“Getting ready to go through customs now, Caroline.”
“Do you have any idea how much you please me, Simon? Over and over again. Just the thought of you almost makes me want to please myself,” I murmured, and heard him groan.
“Business or pleasure, Mr. Parker?” I could hear an official-sounding voice say.
“Pleasure, please,” I answered naughtily, and Simon hissed.
“Hanging up on you now.” And he did just that.
I fell back into the pillows, flushed and giggly. The things that Wallbanger made me do.
• • •
Text from Simon to Caroline fifteen minutes later:
Someone’s in trouble when I get home.
Promise?
Woman, you give me ideas.
Do I, now?
Seriously though, all sexting aside, congratulations. I’m proud of you.
I’m proud of me too. Thanks.
Now then, what are you wearing?
Go chum the water, Wallbanger.
That’s what we’re calling it now?
Sigh. You remember the first time you texted me? From Ireland?
I do.
And you remember when I went across the hall and kicked your door?
There was a short pause. Then:
You just did, didn’t you?
Maybe.
Love you.
Love you more. Be careful with Jaws.
• • •
“You got a minute?” I asked, standing in Jillian’s doorway. I’d been trying to pin her down all week to make a final decision about the intern I wanted to bring on board, but she was booked solid with clients and last-minute wedding appointments.