Page 8 of Tell Me Something

He seemed startled by my reciprocating question, and his gaze met mine again.

Was this type of inquiry considered bad form in the business world? I wasn’t sure. Then again, we were on our way to eat fast food after a day of discussing my bikini line. How much weirder was this day going to get?

“I grew up in Virginia, outside of DC, in a town called McLean. Now I’m based primarily out of New York City, although I travel quite a bit.”

I wanted to ask him where his favorite place in the entire world was or how he liked New York City, but I felt like it would highlight my lack of worldliness. Besides, Josh Singer didn’t seem the type to talk for no reason. I didn’t even realize I’d sighed until he did the same.

“I guess I’m not very good company.”

His vulnerability was surprising. Turning toward him, I admitted, “Honestly, I was sighing because I want to ask you more but then felt like it might be inappropriate, or you might think I’m the one who isn’t good company.”

He turned toward me at the next red light. “I wish you would just ask me your questions. Too many people worry about what I might or might not think.”

Based on his comment, I wondered if it was lonely in his world. “Okay. Among the places you’ve traveled, where’s your favorite spot in the world?”

Smiling, he appeared to think about it. “If you’re talking about a beach, then I would say Moorea, which is in the French Polynesian Islands. For culture, I would say Prague or Istanbul.”

“Nice. Um, do you want to grab a table or do drive-thru?” We were turning into the parking lot.

“I’m good with drive-thru if you are.”

We got in line, and I continued my questioning. “Where’s the most charming place you’ve ever been?”

He seemed thrown by the question at first. “Ah, the most charming place would probably be Ireland. What are we ordering?” It was now our turn at the speaker.

“You want me to choose?” I was surprised when he nodded, after which I leaned across him without thinking. “We’d like two cheeseburgers, two fries, and two chocolate milkshakes, please.”

He stiffened at the contact, and I quickly moved back, trying not to notice that he smelled amazing. Even better than the leather seats.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space.” I retrieved cash out of my purse and felt his eyes on me. His expression told me he was amused that I was planning to pay. “You’re driving me home and just gave me forty thousand dollars. The least I can do is treat you to a junk food dinner.”

I expected him to be stubborn, but instead he accepted my twenty and gave it to the teenage girl who could only stare dumbly.

Yeah, I know how it feels, honey. He’s way out of both of our leagues.

As he handed me my change, I felt his hand on mine, thinking it was unfair that I be so affected while he simply went through the normal motions.

“So, do you want to eat in the parking lot, go to your place, or continue on to my hotel room?” He must have noticed my stunned look as he hastily added, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I meant—You know what? Why don’t we just pull over here?” He parked the car on the far side of the lot. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Haylee.” His voice was quiet.

I was torn between the longing to rip into my cheeseburger and the desire to unbuckle his pants and devour him. I doubted either of those scenarios was in the business etiquette handbook.

“You aren’t. I knew what you were asking, and considering traffic, I think eating here is the best idea. I’m starving.”

He seemed to relax as we both dug into our burgers.

Meanwhile, I tried to remember my manners. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s good. Is this your go-to place for dinner?”

“Ah, no. Can’t keep my size six, still-too-fat-for-modeling figure by eating here every night.”

He chuckled with an appreciation for my sarcasm.

“It’s more comfort food to follow a long hard day with no workout planned after. Slug food.”

He quirked a brow.

“You know, slugging on the couch after a junk-induced food coma?”