Okay, don't walk like you're bowlegged. Do not walk like you're bowlegged. Otherwise, everyone you work with and every client you meet today is going to know you got laid six ways to Sunday. That is, if the satisfied look on my face doesn't give it away.

Jesus, I knew Asher had a fantastic body and from our near romp on his beach, I also knew he was seriously packing in the girth department. What I wasn't expecting was the skill at which he wielded said girth.

I can still feel him in every movement I make. To say I'm counting down the seconds until he has his way with me again would be an understatement.

“And these would be in bloom in March?”

My mental image of Asher on top of me dissolves into thousands of purple flowers. “Absolutely. Our florist is amazing.”

My client, a bride-to-be, inspects rows of floral arrangement options again.

She turns to her fiancé. “Which do you like the best?”

He frowns. “They're flowers, I'm fine with any of them. You pick out your favorite ones and I'll be good.”

“But Michael, I want to make sure you love them as much as I do,” she says.

He glances up at the ceiling before pulling her into his arms, his mouth going to her ear. Even though his voice is hushed, I still hear what he says.

“Babe, only thing that's important to me is that you'll be my wife. You smiling and happy and having whatever you want is what I want.”

He says all of this while kissing her neck.

Damn.

She blushes and turns to me. “We’ll go with this one for the centerpieces.”

Just seeing them together raises the temperature in the room.

I consider offering them a room but instead say, “Great choice.”

The rest of our meeting goes well and both seem pleased by options I provided. Standing in the doorway of the ballroom, I wave goodbye to them. Glancing at my watch, I see I have ten minutes before my next meeting. Hopefully it will be enough time to pop in on Asher and steal a kiss.

After our shower, we both got ready. I was happy to discover he wasn't a sink hog.

Guys who Bogart sink square footage, and I've dated more than one, tend to be greedy in all aspects of the relationship.

Once we were both ready, I took him to the basement level and the room I was able get for him to use as a temporary workshop.

The arch should arrive today, maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, he's getting all of his tools set up.

“Paige, wait up.”

Turning, I watch Fiona make her silent approach. “Good morning.”

She looks me up and down, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “How good?”

A laugh escapes and I hope I don't blush. “Thanks for the gift basket.”

Smiling outright, she replies, “I figured it'd come in handy.”

I ignore the way she emphasizes the word come. “I was on my way to see Asher.”

She motions for me to continue. “I'll come with so I can meet him.”

Oh Lord.

Well, I'm not sure if Fiona has ever been down to the basement before. Still, it's her hotel so I'm not going to stop her.

“Giselle seems to think your Asher is even hotter than Rasmus. It'll be fun to judge for myself.”

We take the elevator down. When the doors slide open, she lets me exit first, probably because she doesn't know which room he's in.

“So is he? Hotter than Rasmus?” she asks.

“Yes, but I'm biased,” I reply.

She taps her chin. “Rasmus is one of the most beautiful men I've ever known.”

Shooting her a sidelong glance as we walk, I ask, “Did you two ever?”

Shaking her head she replies, “I don't get involved with employees, or with people who have less money than I do.”

I gasp, “That sure narrows the eligible dating pool.”

“That's a fact but it's still better than dating a gold digger.”

The door to the room is closed when we arrive.

“He might be back up in our room,” I say, quietly knocking on the door.

“Come in,” he replies.

Opening the door, I try in vain to school my expression at seeing him again. He's fully dressed but all my traitorous brain sees is his naked body. Needing to look away, I examine the progress he's made in unpacking. This makeshift workshop is sad in comparison to his back in New Hampshire.

Still, he's unpacked and set up a bunch of tools. In fact, he's spread them out across three full tables.

“Paige,” he says as soon as he sees me, closing the distance between us.

Ignoring Fiona, even though she's standing right behind me, he kisses me hard and deep.

My hands fist his shirt and, when he breaks our kiss to smile down at me, I tilt my head towards her. “This is my boss, Fiona Havenscroft.”

She presses her hand to her chest. “My my I can see why Rasmus held no appeal.”

He straightens, draping his arm across my shoulders and offers her his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She accepts his hand and surprises him by also stretching up to press her cheek to his. Good thing she shared she only dates men with astronomical bank accounts. Otherwise, I could have gotten jealous.

Alright, I'm still jealous.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well,” she purrs.

He drops her hand and takes a step back. Attention has never been, and clearly still isn't, his thing.

Fiona watches him carefully. Back in her modeling days, and even more so now that she's a permanent figure on the Forbes 500 list, she’s also had her share of unwanted attention. Something tells me, she’ll never get into his space like that again out of respect.

“I was just finishing up in here,” Asher says.

I glance at my watch. “I have enough time to walk up to the room before my next appointment.”

Fiona, gestures toward the door. “I'll share the elevator with you both.”

Darn, that rules out any making out.

Using the key I got for him, Asher locks up behind us. Security is second to none at Haven but we’re still not chancing anyone walking off with any of his tools.

Once we’re all in the elevator, Fiona presses the button for the lobby, shooting me a sly wink. Looks like making out is back on the menu.

Then her gaze moves to Asher and she frowns. Following her gaze, I take in his stiff frame and tight jaw.

As the doors open my eyes shoot to hers, and she says, “I would like to take you both out to dinner while you're in town. Paige, I'll have Rasmus coordinate the night with you.”

“Wow, thanks Fiona. That’s very kind of you,” I reply.

She shrugs, and then waves as the doors close.

Once they do, I turn to face Asher, and reach for his hands. “Are you doing okay?”

His jaw relaxes as he gives me a half smile. “Better now.”

My smile in return is full. “It's as easy as that?”

Dipping his face to kiss me, he replies, “Sure is.”

We make out until the elevator dings at our floor. It sucks, but I only have enough time to kiss him again at our door before I need to hightail it back down to the lobby to meet my next clients.

Before I left, I asked him if he wanted to go sightsee or anything because I could set up a tour for him. The horrified look he gave me was answer enough. I hate that he's going to be all by himself twiddling his thumbs while I work. Asher Thompson is not the kind of man who will be okay just sitting around.

With luck, the arch will be delivered soon so he can have something to do. That doesn't stop me from brainstorming for things he might like to do. By the end of my next appointment, I have a couple of good ideas.

Walking across the lobby toward my office, I run into the person who should be able to help me accomplish them. “Hi Rasmus.”

He smiles as I near him. “Paige, hello. Fiona asked me to speak to you about a dinner appointment. Do you have time now?”

“I was heading to my office, can we speak there? I wanted to ask for your advice on something as well.”

“Of course,” he replies.

As we walk behind the front desk, and through the door that leads to the hall of offices I wonder if he'll ask about Asher.

When we reach my office, he gracefully sinks into one of the chairs that faces mine.

“What can I help you with?” he asks.

When I explain my plans, he nods. “That can be easily arranged.”

I grin at him, “Thank you so much.”

His eyes slowly move across my face. “I should have asked you out on a date years ago. I've never seen you look so radiant. Your Asher is a very lucky man.”

My grin shifts into a soft smile. “Trust me, it's me who’s lucky.”

Our conversation shifts to Fiona’s dinner. After a date is settled on, Rasmus hangs out for a couple minutes. He was so kind earlier so I don't rush him.

When he leaves, I still have enough time to update my files on the selections made from my first two appointments before my next one. This appointment is different from those though; it's a job interview for my replacement.

There are a couple of internal candidates I've already met with. I wasn't impressed by either of them. They are both capable in their current roles, beyond that, not so much.

Fiona will be making the ultimate decision but I want to give her qualified choices to pick from.

My desk phone rings, the screener showing it's the front desk. “Ms. Sullivan, Ms. Young has arrived. Would you like me to show her back?”

“Yes, please. Thank you,” I reply.

Moments later, Kiwi, the clerk who called, arrives at my door with Ms. Young in tow.

Standing, I nod my thanks to Kiwi as she waves goodbye, then offer Ms. Young my hand. “Hello Ms. Young.”

Her handshake is confident, and she scores a point by holding my gaze.

I motion to the chairs in front of my desk, and say, “Please have a seat. Can I get you some water?”

She takes the seat Rasmus was in only minutes ago and shakes her head. “No, thank you.”

Taking my seat, I pull a notebook out of my desk and remove the cap of my pen and get started. “Your resume was impressive. Based on your experience, what do you feel qualifies you for this position?”

* * *

My phone vibrates with an incoming text from Rasmus letting me know he scheduled my surprise for Asher. I type out a quick reply, giving him my thanks and letting him know I owe him.

Now I have three whole hours to myself before I need to oversee tonight's events. When Fiona hired me, I knew I'd be working around the clock to put things in order. My first week at Haven, I barely slept. That hard work paid off and has given me more down time this week. Before Asher got here, I've been using that time to nap.

As much as I'd love to go another round with him, I'm praying Asher will be up for joining me in a lazy snooze.

As the elevator passes floor after floor, my thoughts shift back to Ms. Young. Man, her name suited her. I wanted to card her. She didn't look old enough to vote, let alone graduate college. Not only that, after college, she went right to work for a well-known party planner in Washington DC.

She's me, only so much younger. While she's not right for Haven, I hope she doesn't make the same mistakes I did.

The doors open and I beeline it to my door. My heels are off the second I'm inside. Damn, evil, beautiful torture devices.

Asher, who was lounging on the sofa, stands when he sees me. “Hey there.”

We meet each other somewhere in between, his arms instantly going around me. “Hey back.”

He looks behind me to where my heels lay. “Why wear shoes that hurt your feet?”

“When in Rome,” I reply with a shrug.

He shakes his head and kisses me. “How was your day?”

“I'll answer you in bed,” I reply, tugging him towards the bedroom.

He coughs and I realize he must have thought I meant for sex. “Not for that. I'm still recovering from this morning. I thought we could talk and I could get off my feet.”

The second I mention my feet, he picks me up. This man. Now, if he would order up a bag of ice and a giant bowl I could soak them in. That may be an exaggeration but, if he got it, I wouldn't turn it down.

When we reach the bed, he gently sets me on it, and follows me down. Settling ourselves facing each other on our sides, almost nose to nose. It's weird how comfortable I am with him. How easy it is to be myself and admit stuff like my feet hurt. He's almost brand new to me but I feel like I've known him forever.

I'm not saying I'd fart loudly in front of him, that may never happen. Or, I might need to talk him into getting a dog, because dogs are awesome, and I will totally blame a fart on a dog. It's one of the countless reasons they're man’s best friend.

Blame a fart on a cat and it would probably cut you in your sleep.

“How long before you have to go back down?” he asks.

“I have about three hours,” I reply.

He smiles at that and I feel guilty about how bored he must have been sitting around waiting for me.

“I have a couple surprises planned for you,” I say.

He frowns, “What kinds of surprises?”

I scrunch my nose. “If I told you it would ruin the surprise.”

His frown deepens. Apparently, Asher Thompson is not a fan of surprises.

Carrying on, I say, “One non-surprise thing I need to tell you is, about that dinner Fiona invited us to.” His eyes widen and before he can ask, I explain, “It’s not tonight.”

Waiting a beat, I ask, “You didn't happen to bring a suit with you?”

He blinks. “A suit?”

I thread my fingers into his hair. “Dinner is formal, but don’t worry about it, I happen to be a fairy godmother at making stuff happen.”

To myself, I pray one of the rental shops I know will have a suit in his size available. “That is if you want to go at all. Please know I'd never make you do something you weren't cool with doing, and…”

Before I can go on, he kisses me. Oh boy does he kiss me. What I'm not sure of is if the kiss is saying yes to dinner or gratitude that he doesn't have to go.

“I'll go,” he says still kissing me, answering me even though I hadn't asked.

Melting into him, I let my kiss thank him right back.

Lifting his head, he looks down at me, eyes crinkling. “Now tell me all about your day.”

And, I do. I tell him everything. I tell him about the couple from my first appointment and the sexy way the groom to be let his fiancée know all he wanted was for her to have exactly what she wanted.

“Smart guy,” Asher murmurs.

My next appointment was for a benefit dinner a couple was hosting to raise money for a school they visited in Africa while they were on their honeymoon. They were inspired by the amazing things this school was doing and have been raising money for them ever since.

Every time I meet people like them, it makes me question my own values. Before things went south when I still had my company, I was making unreal money. Maybe if I had focused more on how I could give back, instead of spreading myself so thin, I'd still have some of it and not lost it all.

“There are a few charities I support,” he replies.

I gulp. “What?”

He looks away. Is he embarrassed?

Pushing up onto my elbow, I press my hand to his chest. “You can tell me.”

His gaze meets mine and he says, “I build furniture free of charge for a local veteran's shelter, and I donate money monthly to a food pantry and a dog rescue.”

A year ago I used to think it was hot when Gregor flipped off paparazzi. God, I needed my head examined. Now I know there's nothing sexier than a good man who builds furniture for men who served our country, feeds those who go without, and helps save dogs.

My fingers fist in his shirt. “Remember how I said I was still recovering?”

He nods and, pushing him flat on his back, I straddle him. “I'm recovered.”