“So what do you do at August Industries?” Sadie asked, saying the name of the company with a deep, reverent bass and pulling Crickitt from her self-analysis.
“Mostly, I handle Shane’s schedule. I thought I did a lot in my business, but he puts me to shame. I schedule his meetings, conference calls, company announcements, business dealings, pitches…”
“You call Shane August of August Industries by his first name?” Sadie asked.
Crickitt shrugged. “He’s a person.”
“He’s a billionaire.”
“He’s very common.”
“He’s hot.”
Rather than agree, which she did, Crickitt hedged. “You didn’t think so that night at the club.” She lifted her wineglass to her lips to keep from saying more.
The truth was it’d become increasingly difficult for her to ignore the strain of Shane’s biceps beneath his sleeves. She was only a woman, after all, and any woman could appreciate the way his long legs stretched out into a purposeful, confident stride. But noticing him at work had led to thoughts of Shane outside the office…thoughts, if she wanted to continue to stay employed at August Industries, that were best kept to herself.
“That night he was just another guy trying to pick up a girl. I didn’t know he was Shane August,” Sadie said, lowering to near baritone to say his name.
“Well, it doesn’t matter how good-looking he is. He’s my boss,” Crickitt said, unsure which of them she was trying to convince.
“If he were my boss,” Sadie said with the rogue lift of her brow, “I’d saunter into his office, perch on the edge of his desk, and ask if I could dictate.” She snorted.
Crickitt laughed, the sound not all that convincing to her own ears. For some reason the idea of Sadie garnering Shane’s undivided attention made her prickle.
“I’ve been so busy I haven’t asked about your date with Shane’s cousin. What’s his name?” Crickitt said, deliberately shifting subjects.
“Aiden.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug and avoided looking at Crickitt. “It was nice.”
A blush crept up Sadie’s neck. Crickitt never thought she’d see the day. “Sadie Ann Marie Howard.”
Sadie flinched. “What?”
“You like him.”
Again with the shoulder shrug, but a smile spread her lips. “He’s okay.”
“And the sex?”
“Crickitt!”
Crickitt laughed. Sadie never acted embarrassed about…well, anything. “That tells me everything!”
“Stop it, it’s not like that,” Sadie said.
“Is that why you’re glowing like a stoplight?”
Sadie’s jaw dropped.
Crickitt shook her head. “A dirty, one-night-stand-having stoplight.”
Sadie became fascinated with the table, running her thumbnail back and forth in a scratch on its surface and fervently avoiding looking her best friend in the eye. “It wasn’t one night,” she murmured. “I’ve seen him twice.”
Crickitt was stunned into silence. She didn’t think of Sadie as trampy, but she did tend to have a lot of first dates that didn’t morph into seconds. Then again, this was the woman who had fed her wedding invitations into a shredder moments after her fiancé announced he was leaving her for her sister. Was it any wonder Sadie discarded her dates like tissues out of a box?
“He’s not like other guys,” Sadie said.
“Meaning?”
Sadie tilted her chin. “He’s charming and funny in this oddly genuine way.”
“He has hair down to his shoulders,” Crickitt said, recalling Sadie’s penchant for bulky athletes or suave businessmen.
“I know,” Sadie said, a wistful smile on her face.
“Wow.” This was more serious than she’d imagined. Crickitt decided to let her friend off the hook. “Keep me posted on that.”
“Oh, I will.”
* * *
Saturday morning, a motorcycle roared into Shane’s driveway. Shane stepped out of his front door as Aiden slipped his helmet off. His hair was back in a ponytail, but several strands had wrestled their way loose.
“You need a haircut,” Shane lectured.
“You need not to shave,” Aiden retorted.
“Hippie.”
“Yuppie.”
They smiled at each other, and Shane held the door open for Aiden. “Come on in, man.”
Once inside, Aiden shrugged out of the leather jacket he wore whenever he rode. “What brings you my way?” Shane asked. “Need money?”