Submerged(Bound Together Book 1)(9)
“Good morning, Mr. Hunter,” I holler as I lock my purse inside the bottom drawer of my desk. The room around me is empty, the phone silent until I give the signal to reception to send the calls through.
I walk over to the open door to my left. Windows line the entire, immaculate room. It’s like walking into space with a roof. With a dark cherry desk and brown leather seating, this room is by far my favorite room in the entire building. Of course, the man sitting behind the desk isn’t so bad to look at either.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Reid,” he asks with a friendly smile. Not his “Thank you for your business” smile, but the real deal. The smile that not everyone gets to see.
His smile is brilliant. I can clearly see why every woman between the ages of eighteen and eighty tries to grab his attention. Reid Hunter is gorgeous in that tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome way. The fact that he’s richer than God doesn’t hurt either. Yet for every ounce of hotness he possesses, I still only picture him as Reid. My best friend’s older brother. The boy who used to tease me mercilessly by putting bugs in my hair when I was growing up.
“And how many times do I have to tell you that I can’t do that. I don’t want to mess up and call you Reid in front of a client,” I tell him. “I’m running down to get coffee. Do you want the usual?”
“Yes, please,” he says with a nod as he returns his focus to the proposal in his hands. I already know that this will be at least his third cup of the day.
After running down to the gourmet coffee shop on the bottom floor, I return to our office with two piping hot cups of coffee and a fresh blueberry muffin. Setting one cup and the muffin down on the corner of his desk, I silently head back out to my area to get the day started; my day, that is. Reid’s started hours ago.
I reply to dozens of emails and return a half dozen phone calls even before reception starts to send calls my way. My day is always busy in the best sort of way. I don’t have time to think about being lonely or focus on my lack of sleep. There’s just no time for it.
At lunchtime, I run down to the deli and return with Ham and Gouda Paninis and fresh tropical fruit. On the rare occasion that Reid doesn’t have a luncheon scheduled with prospective clients, lawyers, or city dignitary, we take the opportunity to go over his schedule and any preparations for upcoming meetings and events.
“Tara’s worried about you,” Reid finally says at the end of our lunch.
“Excuse me?” I ask, slightly offended that my best friend is discussing me with my boss. Ignore the fact that my boss is her oldest brother, please.
“She says you haven’t been dating much,” he says, turning those crystal blue eyes at me. Eyes that are so intense and exotic, you can’t help but squirm a little under their gaze. No wonder grown men end up giving in to whatever demands and stipulations he’s seeking.
“I don’t have time to date, Reid. I have a toddler to raise,” I say, throwing my wrappers from lunch in the garbage can. “Besides, who wants to date a single mom with spit up on her shirt?”
Reid makes a face that lets me know exactly his stance on young mothers. Reid Hunter will die single and childless if he has his way about it. “You should take time, Carly. You’re a young, beautiful woman who has a lot to offer any man,” Reid says.
“How about you, Reid. When was the last time you went out on a date? And not the ones I pre-arrange for you for some charity function or fundraiser,” I retort, knowing that by turning the tables, the conversation will abruptly come to a close.
“We’re not talking about me,” he says with a pointed look. “You are capable of love, unlike me.”
Reid Hunter is so full of shit. He’d be more than capable of love if he would actually give it a try. I’ve told him this on more than one occasion, and the resulting conversation always ends the same way: with his denial, avoidance, and subject matter change.
“So, Mr. Cruz will be here in ten minutes to discuss the Bravado Resorts acquisition. Do you need anything before then?” I ask, gathering up the remnants of his lunch and tossing it in the trash.
“You don’t have to pick up after me, Carly. I’m more than capable. I’m going to humor you right now and allow you to change the subject, but only because I want to still review the latest stipulations with you before Cruz gets here,” he says, pulling the Bravado file out of his top desk drawer.
“Those stipulations are absurd,” I say, allowing my irritation to be evident and my tone to reflect my displeasure.