I look up from the proposal. “You’d put together a low-risk portfolio for me?”
“If that’s what you prefer.”
“But you don’t do that. I mean, everything I’ve read about you—that’s not your game.”
“No, it isn’t. Actually, I’ve never done it before.”
“But you’d do it for me.”
He lifts a shoulder. “I would.”
“Why?” I prod.
“I... like you,” he says. “I like your style.”
That’s what I thought.
I slowly nod my head. He keeps my eye contact. Finally, I break it, looking over at the leather couch in the corner. Then back at him. He’s still looking at me.
“You have any other appointments today?”
He pauses a beat. “I do not,” he says.
“When does your receptionist leave?”
He looks over toward the door, more confident now that he’s reading this correctly. “Five o’clock,” he says.
“Maybe give her a break today, let her off early,” I suggest.
Now he’s sure, and he knows how to handle it. “I could do that.”
I smirk. “Then do it.”
He pushes a button on his phone. “Emily, I don’t have anything else today. Why don’t you take off a little early?”
I stand up and unbutton my dress, taking my time with each button, watching him watch me. My dress drops to the floor. I step my heels out of it and lean over the table.
“I’m going with option one, Mr. Newsome,” I say. “Take me for the ride of my life.”
24
Vicky
“Maybe you had a point about water,” I say. “Because I need some right now.” I untangle my sweaty body from Christian’s and get off the couch.
“In the fridge by the bar,” he says. “Where are my manners?” He has that smug, self-satisfied look that men have after they think they’ve rocked my world.
He was fine. Not as good as he thought he was, but fine. He knew what he was doing. It’s just that I’ve never gotten to the point that I find intimacy in sex. Brief, raw pleasure is the most I can get from it, on a good day.
I grab a bottle for each of us and return to the couch. He does a sit-up to get to the seated position, allowing him one more opportunity to show me his ripped abdominal muscles. He’s got a great body, I’ll give him that. The guy must spend hours a day in the gym honing it. Whoever compared bodybuilding to masturbation had a point.
Christian takes a drink from the bottle and lets out a satisfied sigh. “Well, Mrs. Dobias, that was...”
Don’t say amazing. Please don’t.
“...fun.”
“You have a lot of energy,” I say.