Page 3

“Oh, I’d love a glass of wine.”

“Red or white?”

“A New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc would be wonderful.”

“Small or large?”

“I’d ask if you had bucket-sized glasses because it’s been one of those days, but that would make me sound like a lush. I’ll settle for a large, please.” This time, I can’t hide the chuckle that escapes me. “And could you point me in the direction of the bathroom? I desperately need to pee.”

The waitress presses her lips together to hide her grin before pointing towards the rear of the restaurant. “Down the end of the hall.”

“Thank you,” Rose says, and there’s that damn air-stealing smile again. Her attention shifts back to me as she pushes out her chair, removes the napkin from her lap and places it on the table. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.” I nod and reach for my phone as she stands. As soon as she turns to walk away, I take a second to admire that tight, round arse of hers before I glance down at my screen, bringing up Justin Rathborn II’s number.

Me: Time’s up; you’ve kept me waiting long enough.

Rathborn: My flight was delayed; I’m heading to the baggage claim area now. I should be there within half an hour.

Me: You won’t find me here, so I suggest you contact my assistant in the morning and make an appointment to see me in my office.

Rathborn: Please. I have a flight booked home first thing in the morning. I was hoping to get the paperwork signed tonight.

Me: If you arrived when you said you would, we’d be discussing terms instead of whether I’m willing to sit here any longer.

When I see the text bubble appear at the bottom of the thread, notifying me he’s replying, I send one more message.

Me: I’ll have my assistant clear my morning for you. If you’re late again, the deal is off.

Rathborn: I can’t change your mind?

Me: I’ll see you tomorrow.

I pull up Janet’s number next.

Me: Clear my morning. Rathborn is stuck at the airport and hasn’t arrived, so I’m leaving. I told him to call you and make an appointment to come to the office first thing tomorrow.

Janet: Seriously. You have the Simpson presentation at nine in the morning.

Me: Move it. And tell Rathborn to come in at eight.

Janet: You can’t just wait for him to arrive? It would make things a lot easier.

On her, maybe.

A growl bubbles in the back of my throat. This woman has got to go. She came with impeccable references, but her constant pushback is getting old. I understand and appreciate how good she is at her job, but this perpetual resistance is becoming intolerable. She’s here to assist me, for fuck’s sake. I pay her good money to do just that.

Me: No! Just do as you’re told for once. That’s what I pay you for, isn’t it?

Janet: You’re right. I should remember that when you say “jump,” the appropriate response is “how high,” not “are you sure this is a good idea?”

I’m so done with that woman. Who the fuck does she think she is? Tomorrow, I need to start looking for her replacement.

Sure, I could wait for Rathborn. I have no intention of leaving right now anyway, but the slightly unhinged beauty who thinks she’s on a blind date with Brendan, the fitness buff, is a far more appealing—or dare I say, amusing—choice.

Chapter 2

Bronson