Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Harley does me a solid and changes the subject. “Did I do okay packing for you?”
I unzip my suitcase and go through the contents, carefully this time. “You get an A-plus on packing,” I tell her. I notice that she’s packed my peach chiffon dress and muted gray heels.
“Awesome. I wasn’t sure how much time you’d have when you got there, so I tried to be thorough.”
“Speaking of time.” I check the clock. It’s already six thirty. “I still need to go over my presentation and get ready for dinner.”
“Why don’t you go over it while you freshen up?”
While I fix my makeup, my sisters listen to me go over the details of the event at Spark House. They also convince me to change into the peach dress. Since I’ve been wearing the black one all day and flew across the country in it, I agree.
At seven, I leave my room and am about to message Jackson to let him know I’m in the foyer, when I see that he’s sitting on the small couch outside the elevator. He pushes to a stand. His hand smooths over his chest, and he adjusts the front of his suit jacket.
His eyes move over me, and he smiles when his gaze pauses at my bag, hanging off my left shoulder. “You look lovely.”
“So do you.” I shake my head. “I mean you look dashing not lovely. Or handsome. Handsomely dashing.” Geez, what is this, 1900? I sound like I just stepped out of the pages of one of my grandmother’s beloved historical romance novels.
His grin widens as he crosses the foyer. And once again, he slips his finger under the strap of my huge purse and lifts it from my shoulder. I grip the bag, mortified by the idea that he feels the need to carry it for me.
“I have it.”
His eyes twinkle with amusement. “You won’t be needing all of this tonight.” He tugs the strap.
I tighten my grip on my purse. “But it’s a meeting, and I have to present, so I’ll need all of these things.”
His smile and his eyes soften, and his hands settle on my shoulders, which are mostly bare because this dress has thin straps. The way his thumbs sweep back and forth over my skin is distracting and disarming. “It’s not that kind of dinner meeting, London. Tonight, you’re just going to enjoy yourself.”
“But it’s a business dinner.”
“It is, but you just need to be you. You don’t need this entire arsenal to sell them on Spark House. You can leave this all behind.”
The idea of not having my presentation materials gives me heart palpitations. But he’s adamant I don’t bring it. “I’ll just bring my clutch, then.”
“Of course.” He nods and gives me a moment to root through the bag until I find the small clutch that pairs with the dress I’m wearing. It contains my phone, lipstick, and a small compact so I can freshen up in the bathroom when necessary. I have to leave behind my star strips, but that’s inevitable. They were just in the bag because they always are. I leave my purse in my room, and we step into the elevator.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going for dinner?” I ask when we’re on the way down to the lobby.
Jackson leans against the mirrored glass, still wearing an infuriatingly delicious smile. “We’re not leaving the building.”
“Oh?”
“There’s a steak and seafood house here. They have a fabulous charcuterie board appetizer.”
“Do you have an addiction to charcuterie boards that you need to deal with?”
“No. They just happen to usually have all the things I love on them.”
“I’m not eating finger foods during a business meeting.”
“You’ve eaten finger foods multiple times in front of me.”
“Because you ordered them.”
“Hmm.” He taps his lip. “Good point. I’m sure there will be future opportunities.”
I don’t have a lot of reasons to fly to New York, but I keep that to myself.
When we reach the lobby, I fall into step beside Jackson. Even with heels on, he has several inches on me. I feel very much as if I’ve just been put under a microscope as eyes shift in our direction when we pass.
As we approach the entrance to the restaurant, a familiar man steps forward to greet us. It’s the same man who came into the conference room for Jackson when he crashed my meeting with Mitchell and Tish.
“Trent? What are you doing here?” Jackson allows his friend to pull him in for a half-handshake-half-hug.
Trent gives him a curious smile. “Same reason you are. I’m here for dinner.”
Jackson takes a step back, his brow pulled into a furrow. “Are you meeting someone? Why would you come all the way from Jersey to eat here? Do you have a date? I’m staying in the penthouse tonight.”