“Hello.” I smile as she leads me into her house by the hand. Her touch is warm . . . familiar. “How are you?” I ask.
“Good now that you’re here.” She takes me in her arms, and I smile down at her. There’s a bond between us that can never be broken. Realizing what I’m doing, I pull out of her arms and stand back. Being in her arms wasn’t on today’s agenda.
Her face falls before she quickly recovers. “Any news on the sabotage?”
“No, none yet.”
She watches me for a moment, and her knowing eyes hold mine. “You have something on your mind. What is it?”
“I’ve met someone.”
“Don’t.” She turns her back to me and walks to the kitchen and puts the kettle on.
“I couldn’t help it.” I walk up behind her and put my hand out to touch her and then recoil it. I take a safe step back.
“Don’t tell me you couldn’t help it when we both know you can.”
“The pull to her is strong.”
“Physical pull?” she asks flatly.
I roll my lips as I watch her; she’s going to go postal any moment. “At first, yes. I thought it was just physical.”
Her eyes come to mine. “How long ago did you meet her?”
“Twelve months.”
Her face screws up in fury. “You’ve been seeing someone for twelve months?”
“No,” I snap. “I met her on a flight a year ago, we spent a night together on a layover, and I’ve recently run into her again.”
“Big deal, Jameson. You’ve slept with a lot of women while we’ve been on this break,” she fires back angrily.
“This one’s different, Claudia,” I say softly.
She rolls her eyes in disgust and turns her back to me once again.
“I’ve thought of her”—I pause, unsure how much to share—“a lot since we met, and then it was as if I . . .” My voice trails off, and I stare at her back as I wait for her reply.
“As if you what?” she eventually asks.
“It was as if I willed her back into my life.”
She turns sharply. “Meaning what?”
“She’d been on my mind a lot . . . and then she showed up in my office.”
She rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “Of course she would—you’re Jameson Miles.”
“She had no idea who I was when we met. I gave her a fake name.”
“So why are you here, Jameson?” she demands.
I swallow the lump of regret in my throat. “I’m here to end it with you.”
“Don’t you.” She points at me. “Don’t you dare throw away everything we’ve worked so hard to keep together.” Her eyes fill with tears.
“Claud.” I sigh softly. “We’re no good together. We’re both workaholics, we live on other sides of the world, and unless one of us loses our job, that’s never going to change. I can’t be anywhere but New York.”
“What if I moved back?” she offers.
“And give up your dream job?” I sigh. “I wouldn’t let you do that for me. I know how hard you’ve worked for this job.”
She stares at me, and I take her in my arms. “You need to fall in love with someone who can support you in your role.”
“I have,” she whispers as she clings to me.
I close my eyes as I kiss her temple. “Two people who are wired the same way can’t be in a forever relationship. We need to be with opposites, Claud.” I squeeze her a bit tighter. “Two workaholics will never work. We’re both too focused and too stressed out to properly look after one another.”
She stares at me, and I know that deep down, she knows I’m right. Her eyes well with tears. “What happened to our five-year plan?” she whispers.
“It was good in theory, but come on. We both knew when we made the break that there was a big chance we wouldn’t make it through to the other side.”
“I’ll move back,” she pleads.
My eyes hold hers, and I know there’s no easy way to say this. “It’s too late. I have feelings for Emily. It’s her that I want now.”
Her face screws up in anger. “Emily, is it?” she sneers.
I clench my jaw as I watch her.
“Who is she? What does she do?”
“She’s just a normal girl from the suburbs.”
She rolls her eyes in disgust. “You . . . with a normal girl? Ha, what a joke. I suppose she cooks and cleans and fusses over you and sucks your dick on command, does she?”
I inhale to hold my anger deeply. “She’s good for me.”
“I’m good for you,” she fires back.
“As a work colleague or employee, yes—as a mate . . . not so much.”
Her eyes fill with tears anew.
“I’m not good for you.” I shrug. “I’m so busy that I can’t be there for you either. You deserve to be doted on, but I can’t do that from New York, Claud; you know I can’t. There is no way around this situation. Our lives are traveling on different paths. Two CEOs can’t hold their careers and nurture a relationship from different sides of the world. It’s an impossible task.” I pause as I try to articulate what I’m saying. “Until I met her . . . I didn’t realize what we were both missing out on. Both me and you.”
Her eyes hold mine.
“I wish it were you telling me you’d met someone, so then I wouldn’t be saying this. I love you, and you’re the last person I want to hurt. I would much rather you hurt me.”
She walks over and drops to the couch as she processes the information.
I stay silent as I watch her.
“So what now?” she asks.
“I’m going home to move her into my apartment.”
Her face falls. “What?”
“And I will be announcing our relationship.”
She drops her head in sadness. “What’s the rush?”
“You know me—I’m all or nothing.”
She screws up her face in tears. “Are you going to marry her?”
I stay silent.
“You asked me to marry you four weeks after we met. Are you . . .” Her voice trails off in hurt.
I clench my jaw to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret. She drops her head, and I watch as she cries for a moment. I have to leave before she gets angry. “I’m going.”
Her haunted eyes come to mine. “I love you,” she whispers.
I smile sadly and take her in my arms. “I love you too.” We hold each other for an extended time. “Be happy,” I whisper into her hair.
“How could I possibly be happy without you, Jameson?” she whispers. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.”
I pull out of her arms, and without another word I turn and walk out of Claudia’s terrace house. I get into the back of my waiting car and stare solemnly out the window as it pulls away.
“Goodbye, Claudia,” I whisper as the scenery zooms by. “Fly high, baby.” I get a lump in my throat for all the good times we shared. “You deserve the best.”
I sprint the last block. It’s four in the morning, and I’m running in New York.
I love this city at night; it has a peace that daylight doesn’t deliver.
Last night at the airport I had my fill of scotch and slept the entire flight home, and now I’m a ball of energy. My flight landed at two o’clock, too late to go to Emily’s . . . not that it’s stopped me from running here.
I pant as I approach her building, and I stare up at it and go to the intercom. My finger hovers over her button. My chest rises and falls as I hesitate.
It’s four o’clock, and she has to work tomorrow.
Don’t be selfish.
Fuck, I can’t help it with her—I am selfish. I want her around the clock.
I walk out onto the street and stand at the gutter with my hands on my hips as I struggle for breath. Spits of rain begin to splatter, and I look up at the sky.
I love running in the rain. It starts to really come down, and I turn back and look up at Emily’s building. I count the floors until I get to her windows.
I imagine her sleeping in her bed with her long dark hair splayed across her pillow, her beautiful curvy body curled up like she does, and eyes that could talk me into anything.
Tomorrow . . . well, today now.
I smile up at her window as the rain really comes down, and I turn and begin the long run home.
Tomorrow I start fresh with Emily Foster.
I walk through the security check with a spring in my step. Jameson got home last night. I get to see him today. I’m so excited that I even got up early and curled my hair, and I’m wearing my gray skirt in full swing.
A week has never felt so long. I take the elevator up to my floor and sit at my desk.
“Hey,” Aaron says over his coffee cup.
“Hi there.” I smile.
“What’s that look?” He smirks.
“Jameson’s home.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, I hope he’s home. He called me from the airport, and he was all boozy, so I’m hoping he made it onto the plane.”
I look over to see Hayden at the photocopying machine area. He’s talking to a group of girls. “How well do you know Hayden?” I ask.
“Hmm.” He thinks for a moment. “Not that well. Molly knows him from her old job.”
“Where was that?” I ask as I turn my computer on.
“They worked at the Gazette together.”
My eyes flick to him. “Molly worked at the Gazette?”
“Yeah, for years. Miles Media headhunted her.”
Shit. A sinister thought crosses my mind. No, not Molly. Don’t be stupid. It couldn’t be. Don’t even think that.
Tristan and I tested the theory over the last week, and every time I gave Hayden a story before four o’clock, it was printed in the Gazette the next day. There’s definitely a correlation somewhere. Whether it’s Hayden or above him, we’re trying to find out.
I really like Tristan; he’s funny and intelligent and a lot softer around the edges than his brother.
“What happened with Paul last night?” I ask.
“He turned up.” He looks at me sheepishly.
“Oh God,” I mutter dryly. “Don’t tell me you slept with him.”
He hits the keys on his computer with force. “Yep. I can’t resist that fucking asshole.”
“Did you have it out with him yet?”
“No. I want to catch him in the act.”
“So why are you still fucking him?” I snap. “For God’s sake, Aaron, don’t be used.”
“For the record, I’m using him.” He rolls his eyes as he sips his coffee.
“Nobody’s dick is that good,” I huff.
“Except his.” He sighs sadly.
“Ugh.” I wince. “Leave me alone with the asshole for five minutes with a carving knife. I’ll get it for you to take away.”
He laughs, and my phone rings. “Hello.”
“Hi, Emily, this is Sammia.”
“Oh, hi.” Excitement runs through me.
“Mr. Miles would like to see you in his office right away, please.”
A huge smile splits my face. “On my way.” I hang up and stand.
“Where are you going?”
“Oh, more training,” I lie.
“Jesus, you’ll be more qualified than anyone on this floor soon.”
“I know.” I smile. “Back soon.” I take the elevator up to the top floor, and the doors open. I can hardly keep a straight face.
He’s here.
I want to run.
“Good morning, Emily.” Sammia smiles. “Just go through.”
“Morning. Okay, thanks.” I walk through and down to Jameson’s office, and I knock on the door.
“Come in,” his deep velvety voice calls.
I open the door, and his eyes come to me with the best “come fuck me” look I’ve ever seen. My breath catches. Standing by the window in his navy suit and crisp white shirt, he is the ultimate male specimen. I forgot how gorgeous he is.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Hello.”
“Hi,” I breathe. I have to stop myself from running to him.
The air crackles between us, and he walks to me and takes my face in his hands and kisses me, all suction and a little tongue. I feel my legs go weak at the knees.
“I’ve missed my girl,” he murmurs against my lips.
I smile, and he wraps my ponytail around his hand three times and pulls my head back aggressively. His thick tongue goes to my collarbone and licks up to my neck. “Have you missed me?” he asks as his teeth nip my neck. I wince as arousal runs through my blood like a river rapid. Jesus, the CEO is back in all his glory.
“God, yes,” I breathe.
He kisses me again, and the door opens. “Hey,” Tristan’s voice calls before he stops instantly.
“Not now, Tristan,” Jameson says without letting my ponytail go. His dark eyes stay fixed on mine.
My heart races at the way he’s looking at me. He’s different . . . more intense.
“Sorry,” Tristan says before the door closes.
He kisses me again, my head held back just as he wants me. “I want to make a go of this.”
“Of what?” I breathe.
“Of us.”
“I thought we were?” I frown.
“No. We were fucking before. Now I want you.”
He bites my neck, and I whimper.
“I want all of you.” His hand grabs my behind, and he pulls me against his waiting hard cock.
I kiss his big lips. “Okay.”
He holds my face in his hands and stares down at me as the air leaves my lungs. “Tonight. My place,” he breathes.
I smile softly as my sex begins to throb in anticipation. “Yes.”
“Do you want to go out for dinner?”
“No, I want to cook. Do you have groceries?”
His brow furrows. “I’ll get Alan to pick something up.”
“No.” I frown. “I want to go to the grocery store.”
His hands roam up and down my body as if he doesn’t know where to start. “Take the limo.”
I screw up my face. “I’m not going to the grocery store in a limo.”
He grabs my hand and places it over the huge erection in his suit pants, and I grab it as his eyes flicker in arousal. “I need you,” he breathes as he bites my bottom lip.
“Oh God, me too.” I pull out of his grip as I pant. “I have to get back to work.”
God . . . it would be so easy to stay here and fuck the boss instead.
“I’ll have Alan deliver the car to you. You use it from now on.”
“The car?” I frown. He has a car?
“Just use it as your own.” His hands grind me onto his body. He’s completely preoccupied with arousal.
“I only need it to do groceries just today. Don’t bother Alan. I can get it from your apartment.”
“Our apartment.” He bites my neck as he really begins to eat me. Goose bumps scatter all over my body.
“Huh?”
“You’ll be moving in with me.”
“What?” I pull out of his arms as my arousal fog temporarily lifts. “What did you say?”
His dark eyes dance with delight. “If I’m doing this, I’m fucking doing this.”
I stare at him. What the hell?
“I don’t do things by half, Emily. If you’re with me, you’re with me.”
“Jameson,” I whisper. “Have you gone crazy?”
“I have meetings scheduled back to back all day, or I would be bending you over my desk right now.” He turns me around and slaps me on the behind. “Now get back to work before I do it.”
I pant as I stare at the door. A visual of me lying across his desk with my legs open swirls through my head. How am I supposed to string two thoughts together after he says that?
“Yes, sir.” I begin to walk to the door.
“Oh, and Emily,” he calls in his commanding voice.
I turn.
“I will be announcing today that we are in a relationship.”
I frown as I stare at him. Confusion swirls around in my head. “Why?”
“Because I hate speculation.” He pauses as his eyes hold mine. “And I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”
I stare at him. Huh?
His.
I have no words . . . rendered completely speechless. “Oh.” I stare at him. “Okay?” I turn and walk toward the foyer. “Goodbye,” I mutter, distracted.
Either Jameson Miles has gone completely crazy, or I am in a parallel universe.
Two hours later, I sit and stare at my computer. I was too freaked out to talk about this morning’s Twilight Zone encounter in Jameson’s office when I returned. It’s taken me this long to get my head around what he said.
I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s obviously jet lagged to holy hell and is suffering some kind of delusion. My phone dances across my desk, and my favorite letter appears.
J.
I smile as I answer. “Hello, Mr. Miles.”
“How’s my girl?” his sexy voice purrs down the line.
“Are you feeling all right?” I frown.
“I’m feeling great. Why?”
“You just seem very . . .” I pause as I think of the right word. “Odd.”
He laughs his deep velvety laugh, and I feel it all the way to my bones. “I don’t feel odd.”
“You’re acting odd.”
“I’m just calling to tell you that we have a dinner tomorrow night.”
“What dinner?”
“The Media Awards,” he replies calmly.
“The Media Awards,” I repeat.
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
I look around at my two work friends, who are completely oblivious to the crazy shit that’s coming out of my running partner’s mouth. “Where is it?”
“Here in New York. My entire family will be there. You’ll get to meet everyone.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Well, what’s the dress code?”
“Black tie.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “I don’t have any evening dresses here,” I stammer. I don’t have any at home either, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“That’s okay. I’ll have some things delivered home tonight, and you can pick what you want to wear.”
I scratch my head in confusion. “I’ll just come to the next one,” I say. “I’ll wait at home in bed for you. The Media Awards aren’t really my jam.”
“Emily,” he says calmly.
“Yes.”
“You are coming with me.”
“Jay,” I whisper as I feel nerves rise in my throat.
“I’ll see you tonight. I’ll be a little late as I have a conference call. Alan is going to meet you out the side entrance at five with the keys to the car and the apartment.”
“Okay.” I puff air into my cheeks. “See you then.”
I hang up and put my head into my hands.
“What?” Molly asks.
“Jameson has gone insane.”
“Why?”
“He wants me to go to some awards dinner with his entire family tomorrow night.”
Aaron’s and Molly’s eyes widen. “What?”
“And he gave me his car to use, but I don’t even know where a grocery store is in New York.”
“Oh, you would go to the one on Fifth.”
“Well, how do I get there?” I frown.
“It’s on my way. I can go with you if you want, and I’ll get on the subway from there.”
“Yeah, I haven’t got the kids this week anyway. It’s not like I’m doing anything.”
It’s five in the afternoon, and we have just finished work. “Where did he say it would be?” Molly asks as she links her arm through mine as we exit the Miles Media building through the front doors.
“Around here to the side exit.”
“What are you going to cook?” she asks.
“Hmm, rib eye with a mushroom sauce, honey carrots, and broccolini.”
“Hmm, yum. Lucky bastard. Wish someone was coming over to cook that shit for me.”
“True.” We turn the corner and look up and both stop dead on the spot. “What the fuck?” I whisper.
Alan is standing next to what looks like a time machine, and my eyes widen in horror.
Black, low slung, and the sportiest looking car I’ve ever seen. The mag wheels alone probably cost more than an average car.
Alan smiles warmly. “Hello, Emily.”
I look at the car and then at the people walking past as they stare at it. “Hi.”
He passes me the key and then a card. “This is for the car, and this is your new key to the apartment.”
I stare at them in my hand. “This is the car?” I whisper as the blood drains from my face.
He chuckles at my reaction.
Molly puts her hands over her mouth and begins to laugh nervously, reminding me that she’s here. “This is Molly, my friend,” I introduce her.
“Hello.” She smiles.
“Mr. Miles asked me to make a time with you to move your things out of your apartment.”
My eyes nearly pop from their sockets. “What?”
“Would Saturday morning suit you? I can arrange a packing service.”
My eyes flick to Molly as she stares wide eyed at me. Okay, what the actual fuck is going on here? “I’ll get back to you on that,” I reply.
He smiles kindly. “Okay.” He opens the car door. “So you know how to drive a manual, obviously.”
“Can you just hold on a minute.” I hold my finger up. “Just a minute.”
I turn my back on them and dial Jameson’s number.
“Hello,” his sexy voice purrs.
“What the hell kind of car is this?” I whisper.
“A Bugatti.”
“What’s that?” I whisper as I turn back and look at it.
“A Bugatti Veyron. It’s a limited edition.”
“I can’t drive this,” I whisper angrily.
“Why not?”
“Well.” I look around in a fluster. “I’m not a very good driver, Jameson. I’m going to crash this thing for sure.”
He laughs, and it’s deep and velvety and makes me smile.
“I assure you, Emily, anyone can drive this car. It practically drives itself. Relax. You’ll be fine.”
“When you said you had a car, I thought you meant you had a Toyota . . . like a normal person,” I stammer. “What if I crash it?”
“As long as you’re not injured, I don’t care.”
“Jameson,” I whisper.
“Babe, I’m in a staff meeting right now with twenty people sitting here. Get what you need, and I’ll meet you at home,” he says calmly.
“Oh my God,” I cry as I get an image of all his staff listening. “Goodbye.” I hang up in a rush.
I come back to Alan and Molly, and they both wait for me to say something. “It seems Jameson has gone completely crazy,” I whisper as I stare at the time machine.
Alan chuckles, and Molly stares at the car in disbelief.
“I thought it would be a Toyota.” I wince.
Alan smiles and opens the driver’s side door. “Mr. Miles doesn’t do Toyota, Emily.”
I get in, and Molly sits in the passenger seat.
“Where are you going?” Alan asks.
“Vegas.” Molly laughs. “We’re going to Vegas. How much is this car worth, Alan?”
“It came in at around two million dollars, I think.”
“Holy fuck,” Molly shrieks. “Get in, Alan; we really are going to fucking Vegas.”
I put my head down on the steering wheel and burst out laughing. “This is unbelievable.”
“You’ll be fine.” Alan laughs as he leans in and starts the car. It purrs like a kitten. “Blinker, brake, reverse.” He points to all the dials and knobs. “Take it slow. It flies.” He closes the door, and I put the blinker on.
I slowly take off into the traffic to the sound of Molly screaming and laughing in excitement, and as soon as I get out of sight of Alan, I burst out laughing too. “What the fuck is going on?” I cry.
Two hours later, I pull into the underground parking lot of Jameson’s building. I know why he takes the damn limo—finding a parking spot in this city is insane. In the end, I made Molly sit in the car in the parking lot and wait for me while I grabbed what I needed, and then I drove her home. I was petrified someone was going to steal it. Alan is waiting, and he guides me into the garage, where I park.
“Thank you.” I smile as I get the groceries out of the trunk. “This is a poser car,” I stammer.
He smirks as he takes the bags from me, and we begin walking to the elevator.
“Did you lock the car, Emily?” he reminds me.
“Oh yeah.” I turn and hold the remote up, and it blips as it locks. I giggle. “Oops.”
We get into the elevator, and he stays silent and looking straight ahead.
“How long have you worked for Jameson?” I ask.
“Ten years.”
“Oh.” I frown. “That’s a long time.”
He smiles. “Yes, he’s very good to me.”
We get to the top, and Alan opens the door and walks in and puts the groceries on the counter. “Do you need anything?” he asks. “Mr. Miles is still in his meeting. He will be at least another half an hour.”
My eyes hold his, and I want to ask him a million questions about the enigmatic Mr. Miles. “Do you speak to him often throughout the day?” I ask.
“No.” He smiles at the suggestion. “I am in constant contact with his PA.”
“Oh.”
“His masseuse is expected here at seven.” He glances at his watch. “Would you like me to wait for her?”
“Her?” I frown.
“Oh.” He corrects himself. “It’s a him now, isn’t it?”
Something tells me that Alan knows a lot more about Mr. Miles than he makes out.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll let him in.” I fake a smile. “Thank you.” I show him to the door.
“Call me if you need anything.” He smiles.
“Okay, thanks.”
I walk back to the kitchen and begin to put the groceries away, and the doorbell chimes. “Hello,” I say as I push the intercom.
“Hello, I’m here for the massage.”
“Come up.”
I open the door and wait for him to arrive. “Hello.” He smiles. “Same room as last time?”
“Yes, please.”
He takes off down the hallway to set up.
The door clicks open, and Jameson comes into view. Every time I see him in a suit, I am reminded of exactly who he is. Power personified.
“Hello.” He smiles as he takes me into his arms.
“Hi.” His lips dust mine, and I melt into his touch. “Your car is ridiculous.” I smile.
He chuckles as he takes my jaw in his hand; then he kisses me deeper, and my hands go around his broad neck.
The intercom sounds again.
“For God’s sake, this place is like an airport,” I whisper, annoyed that my kiss is being interrupted.
“Oh, that’s the stylists with your dresses,” he says.
“Your masseuse is set up in the end room.”
He kisses me again. “Let them in, and choose what you want.”
“Jay,” I whisper as my eyes search his. This change in him is confusing me.
“Get a few.” He grabs my behind. “I’m going to take a quick shower.” He disappears up the hall, and I open the front door.
My face falls when I see the two gorgeous women pushing a huge garment rack of gorgeous dresses. “Hello.” One is tall with long dark hair, and the other is blonde and beautiful. Both have that trendy, confident vibe.
“Hello, Mr. Miles ordered some dresses,” the blonde says. “I’m Celeste, and this is Saba.”
“Yes, please come in,” I whisper, embarrassed. “I’m Emily.” We shake hands.
God, don’t tell me they are going to watch me try this shit on? How mortifying. “Just in here.” I show them to the living area, and they start to unpack shoes and accessories as I watch awkwardly. This seems all very over the top.
“Back in a moment.” I smile.
I turn and take off up to the bedroom, and I burst into the bathroom to find Jay washing under the shower. “What the hell is going on?” I whisper in a panic.
“What?” He frowns, totally oblivious.
“Two Penthouse Pets are out there with a load of dresses that are way too exotic for me, and I’m driving around in a fucking space machine, and you’re saying I’m moving in, and I’m freaking the fucking hell out, Jameson,” I blurt out in a rush.
He smirks as he turns the taps off. “Just go out there, and pick what you like, Emily. Don’t overthink this.”
“Don’t overthink this,” I whisper. “It’s overthunk already.”
“Overthunk isn’t a word,” he says casually as he dries himself.
“Oh my God,” I stammer in a fluster at his lack of care, and I storm back out to the stylists. “Sorry,” I say as I stand next to the rack of clothes. I twist my fingers nervously in front of me.
“Tell me about your style.” The blonde smiles. “What makes you pop?”
I stare at her. Oh jeez. What the fuck is this bullshit? “Umm.” I look at the dresses on the rack.
“What makes you come alive and feel sexy?” the brunette gushes. “When are you living your best life?”
Oh, Jesus . . . not this. “I’ll just”—I gesture to the rack of clothes—“see what I like.”
I begin to flick through the dresses. Wow . . . they’re all beautiful.
“Anything you like, sweetheart?” I hear Jameson’s deep voice purr from behind me.
I turn to see him with a white towel around his waist. His hair is wet, and his tanned muscles are bulging. He looks fucking edible.
The two bimbos’ eyes bulge from their sockets. “Hello, Mr. Miles,” they both stammer as their eyes drop down his body.
“Hello.” He smiles sexily.
I look at him deadpan. Is he for real? “I’m not sure. I like everything,” I snap as I turn back to the rack.
In a fucking towel . . . what next?
Ugh.
He comes behind me and puts one hand on my hip as he goes through the rack. “We’ll take this one, this one . . . this one.” He scans the rest of the rack. “And all of these from here on.”
“Yes, sir,” they both gush.
His eyes go over the shoes and lingerie they have laid out on the coffee table.
“We’ll take all of the lingerie and whatever shoes Emily chooses.” His eyes come to me, and he smiles and leans in and kisses me. “Done.”
The two women hold their breath as they watch.
His hand drops to my behind, and he gives me a firm squeeze. “Nice to meet you, girls,” he says before he saunters up the hall for his massage.
I turn back to the girls as they watch him disappear in awe.
Good grief.
I think I just met the real Jameson Miles . . . in all his glory.
