His voice rasps across the line soft and deep, “Only with you.”
I like the sound of that. I like it a lot, actually. But as I stand here in the middle of a sporting goods store, there is not much I can do with this sexy man who is eager for me to tell him what to do. “Good to know,” I say, my voice a little brusque. “Did you call to stir up some naughty visions or is there a reason?”
Humor lights his tone when he responds, “I wanted to confirm for seven tonight at La Cucina.”
“Not working late?” I can’t hold back the teasing in my voice. Is this the same man who barely had time to fit me in for a late night dinner yesterday?
“No, something better came up.”
“Hmm…that’s also good to know.” Without thinking, I hang the yoga clothes on a rack and impulsively walk toward a ping-pong table on display. “I’m good with the restaurant and time. Want me to meet you there?”
“Or I can pick you up?”
“Don’t go to the trouble. I’ll meet you.”
“I’m sensing you’re trying to get me off the phone.”
I pick up a short handled paddle, the red and blue rubber sides made for controlling the spin on a tiny, plastic ping-pong ball. “Not at all.” I smack my thigh lightly with the paddle, testing it. A muffled clap greets me. “I’m on my way back to work.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tonight. Come hungry, Heather. I will be.”
We end our call, and I saunter to the checkout to pay for my new paddle and the underwear. I slip both into my large purse, eager to show Tony the paddle the next time he drops a hint he’d like to know what I’d do if he were “bad.” I leave the establishment with a jaunty step to my walk. Being involved with him is turning out to be way more fun than I bargained.
The rest of my afternoon is spent preparing for the four o’clock meeting. Around three-forty-five Harvey and I, with four others from Parkerson, take the elevator up to the Apollo offices on the fortieth floor. Their organization isn’t based here in NYC, but seeing their large footprint covering multiple floors in one of the world’s highest rent districts is very impressive.
The reception area has a distinct Mediterranean feel—coastal colors with bright patches of Greek and Italian landscapes on the walls. It would almost look cheesy if it weren’t for the obvious quality of the furniture and decor. A woman in her late-thirties introduces herself as Deidra and asks us to accompany her down the hall to the conference room. Once through the double doors, she motions to the coffee cart against one wall and instructs us to help ourselves.
I wait for the men to serve themselves first, damned if I’m going to start playing waitress to these men any time soon, then pour myself a cup.
I turn to join Harvey at the table when the team from Apollo filters in. I make my way to my seat as one of their executives breaks into a coughing fit. I place my coffee on the table and look up to see if the gentleman is okay or if someone should call for a glass of water.
Tony’s flushed face greets me from the top of the boardroom table. His light eyes hold shock, his handsome features work to regain composure, and his shoulders shudder from the pounding on the back he’s receiving.
“Are you okay, Tony?” the man to his left asks.
I freeze, every muscle in my face and body poised in the age old flight or fight response. What the hell is he doing here?
A glance to his left reveals his buddy Marcus from the speed dating event, with a sly grin on his cool visage. What the hell am I supposed to do?
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Chapter Ten
Tony
Holy shit. I can’t believe I didn’t find out her position at Parkerson. The look of betrayal crossing her face scares me. How the hell am I going to fix this mess? She’s sitting between Harvey and a man in a suit I haven’t met before.
To think she works for that alcoholic weasel makes me burn. I hope she hasn’t let the doddering fool handle any of her personal finances. How he’s kept their firm afloat for the past decade is anyone’s guess.
Heather’s silence at seeing me leaves me floundering. Do I acknowledge that I know her in front of the group? Judging by the smug look of satisfaction on Marcus’s face, I’m guessing he has recalled her from last week’s night out. Good thing I don’t kiss and tell or that rat bastard would be reaming me out after the meeting.
Introductions go around the room and Heather gives me a subtle tilt of her chin in greeting. Oddly enough, when the men all shake hands she refrains and stays seated. I can’t tell if she’s flustered or annoyed. Perhaps she has a more secretarial role in the company and doesn’t want to make any waves by presenting herself as an equal with a handshake? Either way, it doesn’t bode well for the bomb I’m about to drop.