“It’s Jack, the hot delivery man.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s the, um, hot... handyman? Driver? Personal Shopper? Oh, oh. I know. I know. It’s the hot pool boy. Am I right?”
“Yes, it’s him,” I say as quietly as I can.
“Oh, he’s close,” she says softly as if he could hear her.
“You don’t have to whisper. He can’t hear you.”
“Okay... okay. I remember him. He’s really hot.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, my nose creasing with a smirk as he slides by me.
Giving me a lazy grin, he softly nods.
“Men’s magazine hot?”
“Yup.”
“Where did you find them, Senna?”
“It’s a trade secret.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What can I say? I like to employ people.”
She breathes out a chuckle.
“You mean hot males.”
“They’re, um... qualified, skilled men.”
“Yeah, yeah... Whatever.”
“I employ women as well. And you’re hot.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. And you shouldn’t let that boyfriend of yours tell you otherwise. ”
“Well…Your housekeeper and I are the only women who work for you,” she says, ignoring my comment. “Everybody else is male. And hot as hell. Even the freaking lawyer and your accountant abide by this rule.”
“Happenstance.”
She laughs wholeheartedly.
“Let’s say I’m a visual person,” I say, grinning.
“All right, all right... I’d like to know what the formula is.”
“There is no formula. I just have a lucky hand.”
“Do you at least...?” she asks playfully.
My smile drops from my face.