Chapter 7
Friday called for some PDA. I’d been tossing and turning during the four hours of sleep I’d allocated myself and felt as if I’d been run down by one of my own food trucks. I decided to show my affection the only way I knew how. I’d say it with pie.
I made up a whole extra batch of pies and had three dozen warm ones sent up from the nearest food truck to Aaron’s office right before lunchtime. I knew the smell would permeate the space. His colleagues liked my pies and it would piss off Ophelia.
After lunch, I turned up in person to seal it with a kiss.
The pretty brunette receptionist advised him I was there while I perched on a leather sofa. I was wearing tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a fluffy angora sweater that slid off one shoulder. I let my curls cascade down, the antithesis of the pencil-skirted, tailored jacket wearing women I could see working behind the glass reception wall.
Aaron met me in the foyer with a big smile on his handsome face. I was getting used to that lovely face. He was wearing a navy suit. I hadn’t seen him in a suit before and he looked very suave. He didn’t even say hi when I stood. He just planted a big slow kiss, that even involved a little tongue, on me. My leg did a little kick of appreciation.
“What a nice surprise. You’re full of surprises today, in fact. Those pies were amazing. But seeing you here is even better.” He turned to the receptionist. “Amy, this is Piper. She sent the pies.”
“Oh, they were divine,” Amy said grinning at me. “The smell is still lingering.”
“Glad you liked them.”
Behind the glass wall people were surreptitiously checking me out. At least they were attempting subtlety.
“Do you want a tour?” Aaron asked.
“Sure. I’d love to see where you work.”
“You showed me yours, so I’ll show you mine.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
“Behave.” I shook my head in mock horror. He took my hand and led me down a corridor.
The office was opulent and austere. More steel, more glass, more leather. There were lots of people in suits and shiny shoes. He introduced me to a few colleagues and reintroduced me to a couple from the previous Saturday night. They all thanked me for the pies.
His own office was one away from the elusive corner office but still had sweeping city views. Would marrying me get him that corner office? It seemed a bit extreme, but then again, I was marrying him for my business, too, so who was I to judge?
His office was decorated in the standard partner-in-training style, with a messy desk, a couple of chairs, some filing cabinets, and a small couch. Had he and Ophelia ever done it on that couch? Judging by the glass walls, I thought not.
He closed the door and sat me on the couch. I felt like we were sitting in a fishbowl.
He leaned in as if he was saying something intimate.
“That idea to deliver pies for the office was brilliant.” He rubbed a dark circle under my eye with the pad of his thumb. “You’re tired, I bet. You poor thing.”
“I’ll live.”
He moved his hand down to run his thumb along my lower lip. “I hope so. And again I’m sorry about my mother. She’s a complicated woman.”
He was staring at my lips so intently I could only manage a “S’okay.”
“S’not okay.” Then he kissed me. It was an honest-to-goodness toe-curling, heart-stopping, spot-seeing kiss. It started out sweet and gentle and then somehow we were in a whole other place. I was transported, so much so that I almost forgot where I was as he leaned me back into the sofa.
“Is that really appropriate Aaron?” The condescending voice in the door way dragged me back to reality. I hadn’t even heard the door open.
Of course it was Ophelia.
“Probably not; we got carried away.” He shrugged.
I was a puddle on the sofa, but he was up on his feet taking a pile of papers from her hands. “Are these the files I asked for? Thanks.”
“The meeting is in fifteen minutes.” She turned on her heel to leave. “I’ll leave the door open, shall I?”
He grinned at me as he landed back on the sofa, the files discarded on the desk. “Perfect.”
“I must say, for a woman who isn’t getting any, I’m starting to feel like quite the tramp.” I said, re-fluffing my hair.
“If that kiss is anything to go by, I’m more than happy to keep you feeling like that.”
“Yeah, right.” I was, however, thinking the same thing. If the kiss was that hot, what would the sex be like?
“The offer stands.” He offered me a hand to help me from the couch.
“The offer is once again rejected but appreciated.”
“Let me walk you out.”
When we reached the foyer he kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you at your place tonight.”
My place? My place only had one bed. But his mother was at his place. This was getting way too complicated.
Any Way You Slice It Page 7