“I have just the space,” I agree quickly. “There is a suite of rooms with a private deck and garden and everything. Leads right to the pool, which should be nice for you. Private but accessible, if you know what I mean?”
“Sounds good,” she sniffs.
Silence falls between us. Chance and I glance at each other.
“Salary?” she asks timidly. “I mean… Is that weird?”
“It’s not weird at all,” I reassure her. “We offered you a job. It is a job. Jobs come with salaries. How about seventy thousand a year? Unlimited use of the car and driver. Four weeks vacation. Tuition reimbursement? Anything else?”
She draws in a slow breath, raising her eyebrows so high that two identical wrinkles appear at the very outer edges of her forehead.
“Um, health insurance?” she asks sarcastically.
“Well, of course,” Chance answers.
She slumps back, dropping her bottom on the arm of the sofa and perching there as she shakes her head.
“Anything else?” I ask, smirking.
Slowly shaking her head, she raises her hands for a second and then lets them fall to slap against her thighs. I like that sound.
“You’re making this way too easy,” she chuckles, as though she can’t believe it. “Is it supposed to be this easy?”
I shrug. “Why not? Why make something difficult if it doesn’t have to be?”
Her eyes flicker back and forth between us as she weighs something else, something heavier in her mind. As she breathes, I watch her nipples trace ovals under her T-shirt, and I am suddenly thirsty.
“And what about… the rest of it?” she says in a small voice.
Chance leans forward eagerly, holding himself back. He would also like to know the answer to that question, but he is controlling himself for the moment.
“That’s totally up to you,” I say, as gamely as possible.
I want her to be comfortable, but if she puts the brakes on this right now, Chance and I are going to have to have a strategy meeting like immediately. I really don’t think that we could have this piece of ass traipsing around the house and keep our sanity if we don’t work something out.
But she has always been sort of demure. Sort of shy. She’s a sweet girl. She’s a good girl. It was probably her sweetness and innocence that made sure that Chance and I kept our heads when we were teenagers. We wouldn’t want to do anything to bruise this tiny flower of a girl. They can be very delicate, you know. It takes a tender grip.
“I feel like we should just go for it,” she announces.
The words hang in the air.
“Excuse me?” I choke out.
She nods emphatically, her hair floating around her cheeks in sweet, tuggable waves.
“Yeah… Do you think? There is no way in hell that we are going to be able to manage this and pretend that yesterday didn’t happen. It’s going to be insane. I say we just deal with it like adults.”
“Like adults,” I repeat, turning the words around in my mouth.
“Tell me exactly what you mean,” Chance says, approaching her cautiously. I could tell by the sly look in his eyes that he is more than intrigued. If she says the word go, he is ready to pounce.
But we are gentlemen, after all. More or less. Sometimes. Sort of.
She knuckles her hips, nudging her faded denim jeans over her hipbone slightly. I can’t help but stare at that exposure, the sweet, pink stripe of nakedness. It’s like a stripe of candy.
Blinking slowly, she looks at me, then swivels her head to look at Chance, apparently somewhat taken aback by our reticence.
“Jesus, I didn’t think you guys were going to make this so hard,” she sighs under her breath.