Chapter 19

Jeremy

By some welcome twist of fate, I’m sitting next to Linny for lunch. The circular table was set for four, but Mitchell invited himself along once he got word from David’s assistant that a working lunch was going down at Calvetti’s.

I didn’t want him here.

I made that clear to David when I spoke to him this morning. This lunch was his idea, as was the restaurant choice.

After agreeing to meet at Calvetti’s at noon, I told David that I wanted Linny here, but I didn’t see any need to include Mitchell.

This is designed to be a casual meeting so we can discuss the broad scope of the upcoming campaign.

In other words, it’s a repeat of yesterday but with pasta.

Good pasta.

Judging by the look of pure satisfaction on Linny’s face, she thinks it’s great pasta.

Mitchell elbows me again which sends a drop of tomato sauce in motion. It flies from the rigatoni noodle on my fork onto my pristine tie; my three hundred dollar pristine light blue tie.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath as I reach to dab the spot with my napkin.

“No.” Linny shakes her head. “Don’t do that. You’re making it worse.”

How the hell can it get any worse?
My tie is ruined, they don’t serve Rizon vodka here, and my dick is painfully hard since the side of Linny’s thigh has been brushing against mine for the last thirty minutes.

Add to that the fact that Mitchell has monopolized the conversation with stories about his time working at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn when he was in high school.

The guy is looking for a gold medal because he can toss pizza dough.

“We’ll cover the cost of having it dry cleaned,” Linny offers. “If you take it off, I’ll have it cleaned and back to your office by the end of the day.”

I look over at her, after quickly glancing at Mitchell who is muttering something under his breath. “You’ll bring it to my office by the end of the day?”

She shakes her head. “They can deliver.”

“Of course Linny will bring it to you,” David says, pointing at his daughter. “I’m responsible since pasta for lunch was my idea. Calvetti’s should have a warning on the menu about the collateral damage that can result from enjoying an order of baked rigatoni.”

I unknot my tie and slip it from around my neck. “I appreciate you doing this, Linny.”

She takes the tie when I slide it into her hands. “Of course, Mr. Weston. It’s the least we can do.”

She avoids eye contact, so I turn, but not before I catch a quick glimpse of her subtly raising the tie to her face before she closes her eyes and inhales the scent.

Everyone else at the table would mistake it for her taking a closer look at the stain. I take it for what it is and that’s a reminder of my cologne.

It’s the same cologne I was wearing the night we fucked.

***

Ninety minutes later I glance down at my watch. “I’m going to need the name of your dry cleaner. He or she is a fucking wizard.”

“A wizard?” Linny looks at the black box in my hand.

“We left Calvetti’s an hour ago and you just brought me this.” I tip my chin toward the light blue silk tie that’s folded with care in the box.

“Oh.” Her mouth forms a perfect O-shape.

I want to slide my dick right in, past those plump lips and over her pink tongue until she takes it all.

“The tie couldn’t be saved.” She sighs nervously. “I purchased a new one for you.”

Impressive, but not necessary.

I have too many ties to count. The loss of one isn’t worth the effort it took her to replace it, but then again, it is worth this.

Linny Faye, my Vegas angel, is standing in my office.

“Thank you,” I offer because I am a grateful son-of-a-bitch when it’s warranted.

“You’re welcome.” She shoulders her black purse. “I need to get back to my office.”

“Angel?”

Her head pops up. “My name is Linny, Mr. Weston.”

I brush past her to close my office door. I don’t want to broadcast this conversation. I trust Blythe to keep her mouth shut if she overhears something she shouldn’t. I don’t trust anyone else who works on this floor to do the same.

“I have to go.” Linny turns to face me. “I have a meeting in thirty minutes.”

“It’s just the two of us.” I wave my hand in a circle in the space between us. “Cut the bullshit. I know it’s you. You know it’s you, so why the act?”

Her bottom lip quivers in a way that makes me want to sink my teeth into it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I inch closer to her. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You in a tutu and tiara, me in my birthday suit. Us in my bed in Vegas.”

Her eyes widen with shock. She does the song and dance a second time, this time with a shake in her voice. “I said that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Even superheroes can’t hide who they really are behind a pair of eyeglasses.” I lean closer. “I would know you anywhere, angel.”

She reaches up to touch the frame of her glasses. “You have me mixed up with someone else.”

“Do you have a sister?”

She nods. “Bethy.”

“Is she your twin?”

“No. She’s two years older than me.” Her tongue glosses over her lips.

Jesus. I want a taste of that.

“She’s not nearly as beautiful as you, is she?” My eyes are locked to hers.

She crosses her arms. “Bethy is beautiful.”

“But not as beautiful as you,” I stress the last word.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Her gaze drops to the floor.

“I would.” I push because I want to know why. I want to know why in the hell she won’t admit that we fucked.

She lets out a breathy sigh. “You don’t even know what she looks like.”

“It doesn’t matter what she looks like.”

Her brows shoot up. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter what she looks like?”

“She can’t be more beautiful than you.” I lean so close that my breath whispers over her cheek. “There isn’t a woman on this earth who is more beautiful than you.”

She doesn’t say a word, but her eyes give something away. A brief flicker of the want I saw in Vegas is there before it disappears with a shake of her head.

“You can pretend all you want.” I inch back and look her over. “My body will never forget you.”

Her hand jumps to her chest. “I need to go.”

I study her, frustration gnawing at me. I could push her more, but she’s not ready to admit we spent the night together. She has her reasons. I have patience, although in a limited quantity.

“Thank you again for the tie, Linny.”

“Of course.” Her eyes skim the box in my hands. “I’m sorry that Mitchell messed up the other one.”

“I’m not.” I toss the tie box onto my desk. “It brought you here. It gave us a chance to talk privately.”

Not that it did any good. It’s obvious that when Linny Faye lies, she commits to it body and soul.

She approaches my office door, so I ask the question I’m not sure I want to know the answer to. “Have you ever done something you regret?”

She stops and it takes a beat before she turns to face me. “We all have regrets, don’t we?”

“I spent a night in Vegas with an incredible woman two months ago.” I stroke my jaw. “I regret falling asleep before I could get her name and number because I’ve thought about her every day since.”

She swallows hard, her gaze meeting mine, but before a word can leave her lips, Blythe barges in and the moment is lost.

“Mr. Weston, I hate to interrupt, but there’s a situation that needs your attention.” Blythe’s gaze volleys between Linny and me.

“It can wait,” I bark back.

“I have to go.” Linny brushes past Blythe on her way out of my office before she rounds the corner and disappears from sight.

“What the hell, Blythe?” I rake both hands through my hair in aggravation. “You know how I feel about knocking before you come in.”

“You have a call, Jeremy.” She points at my desk phone. “It’s Athena. She said it’s urgent.”

“Leave.” I wave my hand in the air. “Out.”

She scurries away and closes the door behind her as I drop into my chair and bring the phone to my ear.