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Feeling good about the choices, Marissa continued writing. “Who else?”
“The last person is Deanne. She also has a great sense of humor, family-oriented, and smart.”
Marissa nodded. “She’s worked for CNN for years and is on the board of several companies in town. She’s the kind of woman who knows how to network.”
“Yes, she is. She also has a fantastic ass.” Bruno pointed at the paper. “You should write that down.”
Marissa shot him a look from the corner of her eye. “I know what to write, thanks.”
Bruno peered at the page, and Marissa hugged the notepad to her chest.
His eyes narrowed. “Why won’t you let me read what you wrote?”
“Because these are my thoughts, and they help me make decisions for later.” She never let clients read her notes, and she wasn’t about to start now.
“Did you write anything about me on your pad?”
“Don’t concern yourself with what I’ve written. Anything else you want to tell me?”
Bruno snatched the notepad from her hand. He moved so fast, all she could do was gasp.
He flipped to the front page. “Let’s see here…”
“Give that back!” Marissa hopped off the stool and reached for the notes, but he easily held them out of reach, stretching his hand across the bar and continuing to read.
“Oh, this is an interesting comment next to Casey’s name,” he murmured, arching an eyebrow. “‘What was so damn funny??’” He shot her a look. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”
Marissa rested a hand on her hip. “Can I have my book back, please?”
There was a lengthy pause as they battled each other with a staring contest. Amusement flickered in his gaze while she wanted to curl her fingers around his neck and squeeze.
“Please,” Marissa said between clenched teeth, hating herself for begging but knowing that he would not give in easily.
Slowly, Bruno lowered his arm, prolonging her torture as much as possible. She snatched the leather-bound book and stuffed it in her messenger bag.
“Why did you write that?” he asked, his accented voice all silky and smooth.
She let out a sigh. “If you must know, I thought she was exaggerating her laugh when the two of you were talking.”
“Maybe I’m just very humorous.”
“If you say so,” Marissa muttered, placing the cap on her pen. She would finish writing her notes at home, away from his probing eyes.
“You know, for a moment, I thought you might be jealous.”
Marissa let out a rude bark of laughter. “I’m not.”
Bruno studied her with his head angled a little to the side, his gaze deliberate.
“You have no reason to be. You look beautiful tonight.”
The words left his mouth like a whisper of desire, dripping with honey and leaving her breathless. Marissa couldn’t recall the last time anyone had called her beautiful and didn’t know what to say. Flustered by the compliment, she temporarily lost her train of thought and had to brush away the cobwebs that made thinking a struggle.
She wore a simple red dress with cap sleeves and matching red lipstick. Perhaps it was the color. She had always been told red was her color.
“Thank you,” was all she could muster in a low voice. “Do you always say whatever comes to your mind?”
He gave her an elegant shrug. “Not always, but most of the time.”
