“Your manager will be hearing from me,” the irate mother-of-the-bride screeches.

“I'll let her know to expect your call,” I reply.

Yes, the customer is always right, and yes, we do everything in our power and their budgets to make their dream event happen. I am however, not a fairy godmother who can bop a pumpkin with my wand and make it a crystal carriage. What I also can't do is turn back the hands of time to repair the delivery truck carting one hundred pounds of Alaskan salmon to their caterer for this bridal shower. She assumed she could save a few bucks by using some no name second cousin caterer to provide the food.

Now that he’s fallen through, it's suddenly my problem. A problem that I solved the best I could at the last minute through our restaurant.

Even after saving her ass, she's pissed because I couldn't manifest one hundred pounds of Alaskan salmon from thin air. We provided halibut because that's all I could get in that quantity.

“Oh you better,” she snaps.

Great, she needs to have the last word too. Giving her a broad smile, when all I want to do is flip her off, I nod and walk away.

“That lady is such a bitch,” Zeke, one of our servers says as soon as I’m within earshot.

I shrug. Nothing good ever comes from bad mouthing a paying client. “She's disappointed she didn't get the event she envisioned. It's not our fault but since her caterer bailed it's not like she can chew him out.”

He shakes his head. “You are too nice. Personally, I think her waist trainer is cutting off oxygen to her brain.”

Internally, I snort. To him I say, “She's our client and we need to remember that.”

He rolls his eyes but does it with a smile. It's normal to vent about crappy guests in food service. It's pointless to ban him from it. All I can do is lead by example. He doesn't need to know I've called her every name possible in my head.

“You guys did a great job tonight,” I say before leaving.

They can handle the rest of the cleanup. Thankfully, since Asher and I are having dinner with Fiona tonight, I'm off for the rest of the night.

Once I'm in the elevator, I text Rasmus to warn him about the potential incoming complaint. His off with my head reply is immediate and has me laughing to myself until the elevator doors open.

I'm still laughing when I let myself into our room.

“Care to share the joke?” Asher asks, looking up from his book.

He's wearing nothing but boxers and his glasses as he reads. When he sees me, he sets down his book and starts to reach for his glasses.

I lift my hand and gesture for him to wait while I fully process the yummy goodness in front of me.

His brows come together and to make sure he doesn't think I'm having a stroke, I explain, “I need a moment to compose myself. Your glasses are a turn on and them combined with you being half naked is a lot to take in at once. I'm having happy spasms at the moment.”

His lips tip up. “Happy spasms?”

I nod. “Very happy.”

“Come over here and I'll give you some different spasms.”

Stepping out of my heels, I don't hesitate to close the space between us and straddle him. As his hands move to my ass, I mentally calculate exactly how much time I need to get ready. Then, as I lower my lips to his, I decide I don't care.

* * *

“We are so late,” I groan.

His gaze meets mine in the reflection of the elevator doors. He does not look concerned at all. In fact, he looks extremely satisfied.

“Asher,” I warn.

He surprises me by crowding me into the corner and kissing me senseless. So senseless, that I lose all track of time and forget all about Fiona and our dinner. I'm lost entirely in the taste of him, and the way his kiss takes me right back to everything we just did.

Some giggles and oh mys have me opening my eyes and looking toward the now open doors of our elevator. A small group of people stand there, all having just gotten a show of precisely how hot it is to make out with Asher Thompson.

And, not just Asher Thompson wearing a faded tee or a plaid shirt. This is Asher Thompson wearing a fitted suit.

He also trimmed his beard and his hair. Yes, his hair. I was in the shower when it happened but the Exhibit A results were in the waste basket and Exhibit B was on his head, or specifically not on his head. Turns out, he's been trimming his own hair for years. Strange thing is, considering how much his beard bugged me in the beginning, I can't decide if I'm bummed it's shorter now.

Either way, he looks sexy as hell, and I'm not the only one noticing him. Heads turn as women all around us watch him. His shoulders stiffen with all of the attention. I wish I could drag him back to the privacy of our room to not only shield him from all of these eyes but to take my time stripping him out of that suit.

Since that isn't an option, I do the only thing that is and slip my hand into his. Giving it a squeeze that he quickly returns as we walk through the lobby.

“Hello,” Fiona appears as if from thin air. “This is Henri,” she introduces each of us to her dashing companion then says, “The car should be here.”

Rasmus never said where we would be eating, only the dress code. When we pull up in front of Cascade, my eyes involuntarily widen. While I'm not surprised Fiona eats here, I'm shocked she'd bring us here as her guests. This restaurant is in the news all the time, not only for how impossible it is to get a table, but for how you might need to mortgage your home to pay to eat here.

“Fiona,” I say, surprise in my tone.

She shrugs. “It's Henri’s treat.”

She clearly wasn't lying about only dating people wealthier than her if he has no problem treating two people he's never met to this place.

My gaze moves to his. “Thank you.”

He gives a shallow nod, clearly not wanting to make a big deal over it.

Asher misses our exchange. A fact which surprises me.

What could be distracting him?

He's as attentive as ever as he helps me from the car. Heels may be the bane of my existence at work but they're even more of a pain in the ass outside the hotel. Out here, anything from an uneven sidewalk to gravel in the street could trip me. That is, without Asher’s arm to hold onto.

The walls of Cascade are mirrored, a slow stream of water running down them. My gaze moves to Asher’s reflection and I watch as he tugs at the collar of his shirt. It hits me, so painfully how uncomfortable he looks here. Before I can grab his hand and drag him out of here, we’re shown to our table.

Smooth gray stones line the base of each wall, the water sliding over them before some mechanism sends the water back up to the top of the wall again.

Tables coil around the room in rings, descending toward the center. Of course that table would be ours, it's the one everyone can see. My gaze moves to Asher.

Anyone else’s eyes would be greedily drinking in everything they see. Cascade is designed to flaunt itself and the people rich and connected enough to manage to get a table here.

Curious eyes are on us as we move through the space. The mirrors making it hard not to notice. They all look at us, their looks becoming stares when they see Asher. It's the combination of his bulk and absurdly handsome face that make him impossible to ignore.

They all may watch him, but he studiously ignores them, his defensive shields up. When we reach our table, he pulls out my chair for me, his fingers caressing my skin as he pushes my chair in. I want to coil my fingers around his hands, pull them to me and apologize for making him come here but I don’t know how to leave without making a scene so I fall apart inside instead.

With a bottle of chilled champagne at the ready, a server appears to pour each of us a glass.

Fiona lifts hers and the rest of us follow. Her focus is on me when she says, “To Paige, who turned a nightmare scenario into a dream.”

“Fiona, this is too much,” I say embarrassed.

Celebrating feels wrong right now. I can’t enjoy this while I know Asher is miserable here and it's not like she isn't paying me to do it.

“And, to celebrate you officially taking the job as Haven’s event planner,” she goes on, lifting her glass and drinking from it.

Asher stiffens beside me while I stare at her in astonishment. “What?”

She waves her hand like she didn't just drop a bomb of epic proportions. “You're the right person and I refuse to take no for an answer.”

“Fiona, I've been interviewing people,” I argue.

At my obvious surprise over the news, Asher relaxes a fraction.

“Hire your favorite and they can be your assistant,” she replies.

I decide against pointing out that each of these people were interviewing to be the boss, not the assistant. “I don’t know what to say.”

She sets her champagne glass down and plants her hands on the table. “Say thank you, since I'm giving you a once in a lifetime opportunity to win here.”

“I…” I start to say it's impossible but she cuts me off and says, “Don't give me your answer now. We’re here to eat, drink, and be merry. The time for business talk is over.”

My gaze shoots to Asher. His eyes meet mine, concern evident in them. Wanting to reassure him, I reach for his hand under the table. Relief washes over me when his fingers wrap around mine. For a moment, I was scared he'd push me away.

“How's the arch coming?” Fiona asks Asher.

“The pieces are done. I'm going to fit them into place tomorrow.”

She purses her lips. When people talk to her, they normally brag or inflate themselves to appear more important than what they actually are. His humble response seems to have surprised her.

“Fascinating,” she replies.

“How did you and Henri meet?” I ask, more to save Asher from any more questions.

Henri lifts her hand from the table and presses his lips in one smooth sweep. “She wanted to buy a building from me. I wanted to meet her.”

My eyes flick to Fiona’s and she nods her assent. “I got a better price by agreeing to go on a date with him.”

My mouth drops open. “You discounted a building for a date, how much?”

He shrugs. “Twelve million.”

“That's some discount,” I remark, trying not to choke.

Fiona takes another sip of champagne like it is no big deal.

The rest of dinner is beyond uncomfortable. What should be a night of good food, good drinks, has been destroyed by my anxiety over what Asher thinks of her job offer. It's hard to get a read on him here. He could be stiff because the attention our table is getting or the job offer.

It would be a lie to say I'm not considering it. The money and respect I would get could change my life. But, do I need to change my life?

There was a time I thought this was all I'd ever want. How quickly that all changed. Could my not wanting to move back to New York change again?

What if I only took the job for a year? Given the amount of money Fiona is paying me for three weeks, I could earn some serious coin for a whole year.

“Do I know you?” A beautiful raven haired woman stands beside Asher’s chair.

“Excuse me,” Fiona snaps. “We’re eating here.”

“I'll just be a minute,” the woman replies, her eyes not leaving Asher’s.

He lifts his hand, the one still holding mine, out from under the table to rest it on top of it. “Not that I know of.”

Her eyes go right to our joined hands, not missing the implication of his action. “Sorry, you looked familiar.”

“Bye,” Fiona replies.

The woman’s eyes move back to Asher, all but begging him to ask her to stay. Sadly for her, that isn't going to happen.

“Xena, who are your friends?” a voice I had hoped I’d never hear again says.

Starla’s eyes drink in all that’s Asher. Jesus, if she drools on our table I’m going to spear her with my fork.

“Long time Starla,” I reply.

Surprised eyes move from Asher to me, widening when she sees our clasped hands. “Paige?”

Hmm, Starla’s startled. There’s something ironic about that. Her shock makes sense though. When I left this city, it was with my tail between my legs. Now I’m sitting with Fiona Havenscroft at Cascade with the sexiest man on the planet by my side. I couldn’t have planned a better in her face comeback if I had tried.

Thing is, I no longer care about her opinion or blame her for my failure. Sure, she was a rotten friend for hooking up with Gregor, but it wasn’t like I was spending any time with him toward the end. I take full credit for my failure in my business and in my relationship. Both taught me lessons I needed to learn.

“Your friend thought she knew my boyfriend. Turns out she doesn’t,” I reply.

She gulps, her fingers reaching up to play with her hair. “Have you moved back?”

Fiona rolls her eyes and sets her silverware down with a clang. “She has. Now go away, we’re trying to eat here.”

Knowing my history with Starla, it’s no surprise Fiona doesn’t mince words.

“Oh sorry,” Starla says, quickly pulling her friend away.

I don’t even bother watching her go, or look to see if Gregor is wherever she goes. That part of my life can stay where it belongs, in the past.

“I haven’t moved back,” I try to argue.

“You’d be crazy if you didn’t.”

As I consider her words conversation continues around me.

“You must have all your meals interrupted,” Henri says to Asher.

He squeezes my hand. “I rarely eat out.”

Both Henri and Fiona give him surprised looks. “What do you eat?”

Asher laughs and I realize it's the first time he's done so since we left our room tonight. Shit, now I feel even crappier for dragging him out tonight. Granted, I did give him every opportunity to say no.

“I cook but Paige will tell you I eat junk,” he replies.

His words have me nodding in agreement. “We met because my mom picks up his groceries for him and when she broke her leg, I took over,” I say.

Fiona looks at me. “Your mom broke her leg?”

I nod. “She's fine now, fully healed.”

“That's good to hear,” she replies.

It's no secret Fiona’s own relationship with her parents is estranged. Their exploits have been gossip magazine fodder for years. They weren’t great parents when she was growing up and have done everything they can to capitalize off of her fame for monetary purposes.

I’m not surprised she’s curious when it comes to healthy family relationships.

“I never learned how to cook,” Henri says.

“He mainly reheats can food,” I reply with a giggle.

“Whatever you're doing works for you,” Fiona laughs.

“I never thought of it that way,” I reply.

Asher shakes his head.

“It must be genes though because your brothers are hot too,” I muse.

Fiona leans forward. “You have brothers?”

Henri laughs.

“Three brothers and a sister,” Asher replies.

“One brother is married, another engaged, and both his younger sister and brother are single,” I add.

Yes, Eli may or may not be getting divorced any minute now but technically I think he's still married.

“Are his parents as good looking?” Fiona asks me.

“I've only met his mom.” I glance at Asher to read his body language on the conversation turn to make sure he's okay with the direction it went. “She's beautiful.”

Asher’s thumb brushes across the top of my hand in a silent thank you.

“This younger brother of yours, what's his net worth?” Fiona asks.

Asher chokes while Henri laughs. For whatever reason, he seems to get a kick out of her interest in Asher’s family. With a sense of humor like that, she needs to marry this guy.

The rest of our meal goes by without interruption or any more uncomfortable questions. As she said, Henri paid the bill when it came. It's silly, but I wish I could have seen the total since the menu had no prices listed.

From the restaurant, we split up, a second town car taking Fiona and Henri to his house while the first takes us back to Haven.

The moment we pull away, I say, “I had no idea she was going to say that.”

He puts his arm around my shoulders. “I gathered.”

“I don't want you to think I would ever keep something like that from you,” I reply.

He presses his lips to my temple. “I know.”

We’re silent the rest of the drive. The blur of people on the streets and lights from the buildings all around us all I see.

As the car pulls up in front of Haven, I turn to Asher and ask, “ready for another surprise?”

He takes my hand. “You don’t have to go to any trouble for me.”

“Try and stop me,” I reply.

When we get inside the elevator, I press the button for the roof instead of our floor. He gives me a curious look but doesn't say anything.

From the roof, I lead him to a private set of stairs and up to Fiona’s private pool. “Surprise.”

It's a lot to take in. He turns, the view of the city around us unreal from up here.

“This is amazing,” he replies.

Picking up a bag, I point to a dressing room. “That's not all. Change into this,” I say, passing the bag to him.

He ignores the bag to grab my arm, guiding me into his arms. “You didn't have to do this.”

“You didn't have to come here and fix that arch, but you did, and you did such an amazing job no one will ever know it was ever damaged in the first place.”

“Paige.”

“You dropped everything to come here for me,” I whisper and then say, “go change and we’ll meet back here.”

He takes the bag from my hand and goes to one changing room while I hurry to the other one. Once I've undressed and pulled on my suit, I check my hair and makeup. Smiling at my reflection, happiness fills all of my pores. For the first time in forever, I finally feel like I have it all.

Rushing back out to the poolside, I'm not surprised to see Asher beat me.

I lift my arms up, gesturing to the city, the beautiful night and to give him a great view of my cute bikini. “What do you think?”

His throat moves before he says, “I think you should take the job.”