Page 22 of Matchmaking the CEO

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"So, hire another one," she said, "or just wait a bit longer."

"I don't like the idea of waiting," I admitted, eating a cracker myself. "My grandfather is going back to work, and that is a terrible idea."

She frowned as she set the cracker on her plate and darted out her tongue, licking the peanut sauce off her lower lip. My cock twitched. I had the strangest instinct to lunge over the table, pull her lower lip in my mouth, and kiss her senseless.

“Why?” Natalie asked, genuinely interested. I was enjoying talking with her. She was intriguing.

"My grandfather had a heart attack many years ago," I explained. "The doctor's orders were for him not to go to work. I'm already pissed at my brothers that they didn't tell me he started going to the office in the first place."

Her eyes softened. I saw a change in her expression instantly.

"You're worried about your grandfather," she said.

"Yes, of course I am."

The corners of her lips twitched. "He has a heart," she said.

"There’s no winning with you, is there?"

"On the contrary, this right here is definitely in your plus column."

The chef returned with our food then. He made tuna ceviche, one of my favorites. He also brought us wine to choose from. We both went with the red from Maxwell Wineries.

"Oh, this looks great," Natalie said.

"For the main course, there’s steak," I said.

"I love steak. I had one in the lounge too. I'm so glad I'm feeling better."

I immediately downed the ceviche. I was starving, as I hadn't eaten anything since this morning. This day refused to end.

After Natalie’s first bite, she closed her eyes, humming, and I had to adjust my pants.

Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me?I couldn't react like this. Natalie was here because my grandmother hired her to cater her birthday party. I wasn’t going to take her to bed or on a date.

"What are you going to do about the CEO?" she asked.

"I don't often say this, but I don't know. I'm still thinking about it. My main priority is my grandfather’s health."

"And for the company to make it, I guess?"

"I don't particularly care about the company," I admitted.

"I wasn't expecting that. Isn't Whitley Industries your legacy?"

My jaw ticked. "No. I left Boston to build my own company."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep. This seems like an intensely personal topic."

“It is.”

We finished our ceviche in silence, and then Donald brought the main course: steak with baked potatoes and three types of sauces. One was pepper, one gravy, and one mustard.

"I can’t believe you had this made for us." She was staring enthusiastically at all the sauces, putting a spoonful of each on her plate, separately, careful so they wouldn't touch each other. "Oh, this is all so delicious. I could kiss the chef."

I groaned and masked it as a cough.What the hell is wrong with me?The thought of her kissing him didn't sit well with me at all.

"Tell me about yourself, Ms. Summers. How long have you been doing this job?"


Tags: Layla Hagen Romance