The Sunday Arrangement

by Lucy Smith

  I smiled. If only she were a man, she’d be the perfect lover. She always knew what to say, and I happened to know from one drunken night in London that she was a sensational kisser—warm, tender, and the perfect amount of tongue. Feeling a little guilty that I hadn’t revealed my real feelings about Pierce (lust, party of one) to her, I turned off my phone and silently swore to myself that there was nothing to tell.

  “You’re smiling,” Pierce said.

  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in the gray, plush seat. “Is that against the Mavericks’ rules or something?” I asked teasingly.

  He chuckled. “Not that I’m aware of. I just haven’t seen you grin very much since I met you. You have a beautiful smile.”

  I stared out the window, feeling as uncomfortable as if this were a first date. “Well, thanks.”

  “So who was it?” he prompted.

  I raised my eyebrow. “Who . . . was what?”

  “On your phone that made you smile like that,” he pointed at my face as if I had already forgotten. “Boyfriend, I suppose?”

  Were we already getting personal? “Men typically don’t elicit that kind of response from me,” I murmured. As soon as the words left my lips, I wished I could snatch them from the air. Why in the world had I said that? It was hardly a topic I liked to discuss with anyone, let alone a perfect stranger whom I was trying terribly hard not to picture naked. He didn’t deserve or want to hear my sob fest.

  Pierce cocked his head. His beautiful golden curls fell playfully to the side. “Well, I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Hart.”

  I could tell he wasn’t sure what else to say. And could I blame him? Damn it. The last thing I wanted was to look weak, but now, Pierce felt sorry for me. Even worse. I ran my hand through my thick ponytail and pretended like nothing had happened. “Well, you know how all you men can be . . .”

  As if on cue, a frumpy attendant approached our small table with a tray in hand before Pierce had the chance to respond. “Would you like something to drink before we take off?” she asked politely.

  “I’d love a glass of chardonnay or Riesling if you have it,” I said without hesitation. Business or not, a flight with such an inquisitive, sexy man called for a glass of white wine. Maybe something to drink would keep my mouth preoccupied and prevent me from flying off the handle again if he dared to probe too deeply.

  She nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach her furrowed brow and turned her head to Pierce.

  “And I will have a root beer with crushed ice.”

  “Coming up,” she said.

  I watched her mountainous heap of frizzy hair as she walked toward the front of the plane before turning toward my new business partner. I arched an eyebrow at him. “I would have taken you for more of a Scotch man, Mr. Maverick.”

  “Pierce, please,” he said, adjusting the stack of papers he had set on the table. “I don’t really like to drink, actually, only if the occasion calls for it. My father is the Scotch man. I’ve liked the taste of root beer since I was kid, so I never really changed. A bit juvenile, I know, but the fizzy caffeine is a bit of a stress reliever for me. Reminds me of a time I wasn’t always so painstakingly busy.”

  “Better than drugs and alcohol, I suppose.”

  “Exactly,” he said, snapping his fingers. “You know, I think we’ll get along just fine together, Ms. Hart.”

  I ignored his comment and looked out the window as the jet taxied down the runway. Our opinion of soda was going to do very little to ease the tension between our two families and this upcoming project. Something in the back of my mind wondered why he was so easy, so nonchalant about everything. His sudden kindness and interest in my life made me wary of what he had up his sleeve.

  Once we reached altitude, the attendant came back with our drinks and placed them on the table in front of us. She apologized profusely about not getting them to us sooner. Something about not being strong enough to open the bottle of chardonnay, which I initially thought was her strange attempt at humor. As I smelled the wonderful white wine in my crystal tumbler, a sense of calm immediately washed over me at the familiar scent. My father had fostered my love for the smooth elixir when I was a teenager. He would bring home an expensive bottle from his office supply and some quick-and-easy drugstore flowers whenever he’d missed dinner—a cheap, last-minute apology to my mother. Little did he know, he was putting a Band-Aid over a gaping wound. Eventually, his lame attempts at forgiveness stopped altogether. Maybe he saw that a bouquet of half-dead daisies wasn’t going to revive his half-dead marriage.

  I took a sip of the exquisite chardonnay and closed my eyes. The refreshing liquid effortlessly slid down my throat. It was possible the only thing my father and I had in common was our love for a smooth white wine. He always kept the jet fully stocked.

  When I looked up, Pierce was staring intently at me.

  I immediately turned away, distracted once again by his intensity and by the weak-in-the-knees feeling he constantly created in me.

  “We aren’t, you know,” he whispered.

  “Who aren’t what?”

  “We aren’t all assholes.”

  I glanced back his way just in time to watch him lick his warm lips. Any comment I might have had to combat his claim left me as I saw his tongue practically dance on his lower lip, taunting me. My first impression of Pierce was that he was the biggest of the assholes, but now my lust for him clouded my opinion. It overpowered me and left me completely breathless in his presence.

  He loosened his tie, as though reading my very thoughts. “Now, Ms. Hart. Let’s review some of these logistics.”

  I took a long gulp of my father’s fine wine. Bottom’s up. This was going to be a long flight.

  “So how long have you worked for your father’s company?” he asked before taking a sip of his soda.

  “Full-time since I was twenty-three, so almost three years. But I worked as an intern every summer of college,” I said. “I suppose you could say I was destined to climb the corporate ladder.” My fingers fiddled with the paper napkins on the tray, eager for a distraction. “I’m surprised your father allowed you to work for him without at least a master’s degree,” I added.

  He smirked. “Like I told your father, I have had the appropriate education and training for this job. My father saw to that.”

  “Well, I will wait to see this training.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you like me?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that I don’t like you. I just don’t know you. And for one thing, our fathers have never gotten along. I guess I’m just predisposed to not liking you.”

  “So you are allowing a three-decade-long feud to dictate your opinion of me?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking him. When he put it like that . . . “No.”

  “Well maybe I don’t like you much either,” he quipped. “Your arrogance is a bit overbearing, you know.”

  My mouth practically hit the floor. “My . . . my arrogance?”

  He grinned playfully. “Don’t act so surprised, Ms. Hart. You’ve shot down nearly all of my ideas, and you’ve made it very clear that you’re wiser and more experienced than I will ever be.”

  I gulped. Had I really been that bad?

  “I think you’re surprised?”

  “Only because I’ve been thinking the same thing of you since the moment I saw you in my father’s office. It’s a slight turnoff.”

  A cloud of silence enveloped the small cabin of our jet. No one had ever called me arrogant. Knowledgeable, proud, hardworking—yes. But never arrogant.

  “I say we start with a clean slate,” I said. “We’ve obviously both been trained to hate each other, deservedly so or not. Let’s act like true business partners who have never worked together before. Maybe then we can get through this project alive.” It was the adult thing to do.

  “All right.” He held his hand for me to shake, and I took it. “I’m glad w
e can come to a type of truce. I’m only a ‘slight turnoff’?” He smiled. “I am what I am. I’m not changing that for anyone.”

  I tried not to look at him. I hadn’t even realized I had said “slight.” He seemed amused by it. We spent the rest of the flight in small talk and a faintly comfortable atmosphere developed. Was there hope for this project, after all? It didn’t seem like it could be so easily resolved.

  ~*~*~*~

  It had been three days, and none of the lots or buildings we’d looked at were suitable enough for Mr. Maverick. That one was too large. This one was too cramped. The other wasn’t glamorous enough. It wasn’t facing the right direction. His methodology in selecting a piece of property for the casino was both fascinating and infuriating. Each morning I took him to several different locations Monica had booked for us. At the site, he’d step out of the limo, crinkle his perfect nose, and grab a fistful of the earth. Slowly, he let the dirt fall from his hand as though he was waiting for a sign from Mother Nature amid the dry crumbs of earth. “This isn’t her,” he always said. “It’s close, but not quite there.” And back in the car we’d go, just as quickly as we had arrived. Vegas wasn’t exactly a foreigner to casinos; we weren’t breaking new ground. Why did the lot have to be so particular?

  Frustrated, everything in me wanted to take over this aspect of the project and just pick one. Every minute Pierce dallied over some insignificant detail was precious time wasted. We needed to get the ball moving and fast. Other projects were missing me. And maybe no one but Mom and Kat were missing me back home, but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend weeks on end in Vegas with a practical stranger . . . no matter how good-looking he was.

  Every day required an incredible amount of self-restraint. I wanted to call my dad. I wanted to bitch. He doesn’t even have a real reason! All of the lots I’ve shown him are perfectly acceptable. This project was mine, after all. If I was going to run it, shouldn’t I be calling the shots in its infancy? Apparently, as Peter didn’t mind reminding me, it was part of our contract with the Mavericks. They got to select the construction site. It was probably a tactic my father used to make them happy during negotiations. Still, time was swiftly ticking away and so was the truce Pierce and I had come to a few days ago on the jet.

  “What about this one?” I asked as I grabbed my thick, black hair and swept it up into a ponytail. We stood in front of an abandoned building on the outskirts of Vegas. Windows were missing or boarded. The old oak doors swung haphazardly open. The harsh gray metal reached toward the sky, a shadow of yesterday’s promise.

  “Nope, it doesn’t have the right . . . feel.”

  “What does that even mean?” I scoffed. I took a folder filled with the information and notes I had compiled last night out of my bag and used it as a fan. “Are you listening to yourself? Business can’t be decided on a feeling.”

  He leaned in close, his tall frame towering over me. Turning his head toward me, he drew closer and whispered in my ear, “Oh, but I think that it can.”

  I swallowed hard and looked at the information I was holding on the lot, forcing my voice to remain professional. “Look . . . look right here. We can have this for a fraction of what our allotted budget is. That’s more than enough reason to consider this a viable option.”

  He raised his eyebrows and shook his head slowly. “Not all aspects of this project are about money. We’re trying to create an experience for our customers. Pleasure cannot be so measured.”

  Something about the way he said “pleasure” made me long for some—to watch him ravenously rip off his long-sleeved Oxford, the buttons falling to the floor. Hungrily, he would spread my thighs. His eyes would never leave mine. I wanted his tongue to penetrate my soft lips, his fingers softly tickling my clit. My lips swelling in desire. My body shaking with . . .

  “Lauren?” he said, his voice breaking into my roaming thoughts.

  Thank God he’s not a mind reader. I smirked as if I hadn’t missed a beat. “Good luck explaining how it’s not about money to our fathers, Plato.” I hugged the folder to my chest and turned to leave the lot. Obviously, we were going to be looking for more.

  He grabbed my arm and spun me back around. “What if we buy out this other building as well? The small one behind it?” he asked.

  I laughed nervously as I wiggled out of his gentle grip. His hands were, once again, searing to the touch. “Well now, that would be a few million over our budget. We can’t afford that.”

  “We’ll get enough to buy both of these buildings. It’s an ideal area. We just need a little more space. C’mon! With you and me selling it, the investors won’t hesitate to empty their pockets.”

  “Come on, Pierce. There’s no sense wasting time here. Let’s go to the next lot. It’s hot out here, and I’m starting to sweat.”

  “Oh no!” He placed a hand over his thick chest and pretended to look aghast.

  I rolled my eyes and got into the limo. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

  We drove off to the next location, a scant few miles away. I hoped this one had enough scenery and space to make him happy without going over the budget. Dad always told me that a project couldn’t be completely off-target in the beginning or the entire plan would go up in flames.

  The car pulled up to the empty land, and I sighed. I didn’t want to get out of the cool air conditioning to stand in the blazing Vegas sun once again.

  “It’s perfect!” he exclaimed as he got out of the car.

  I leaned against the car. “Thank God,” I muttered.

  He walked around the lot, pointing to certain aspects of the terrain and yelling out details. “The entrance will go here!” he hollered. “And the parking garage can go there.”

  At this point I hardly cared what went where. We had a location and that was the important part. No matter that it took him less than a second to make one of our most crucial decisions.

  He turned to me, and his eyes glimmered with happiness in the sunshine’s rays. I was glad I was wearing my sunglasses, or he might have noticed me staring at them. “Can’t you feel it?” he asked.

  I glanced around the lot once again. The wooded area, the ideal location just outside the strip—even the dirt felt cleaner somehow. I had to admit that he was right. It did feel different from the twenty others we had looked at.

  “I told you,” he said before I could convey my thoughts on his selection. “I knew we would find the perfect one eventually! Now, have a drink with me tonight.”

  I pulled my sunglasses down my nose and looked at him. “I thought you don’t drink?”

  He took a small step toward me. “I don’t, normally, but this is a good reason to celebrate. So what do you say?”

  I opened the car door. “I could use a drink.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at your apartment tonight around nine.”

  “Okay. Sounds like a plan.” I got into the limo, glad he was behind me so that he couldn’t see the huge smile on my face.

  When I arrived at the hotel, I pulled out my iPhone and called my brother to tell him we had finally found a piece of land. He’d need to come out so that we could start to work on a mock-up of what the casino would look like.

  “What’s today? Saturday? The earliest I can get out there is Tuesday afternoon, Lauren.”

  “Crap. Thought you might be able to hang out with me this weekend and, ya know, talk. I haven’t seen you in so long.”

  “I just saw you at your going-away dinner, remember?”

  “You and I both know when Dad’s involved, no one is really himself.”

  “True. Listen, I’d love to come out earlier but Margret’s kind of pissed at me for not helping out around here more. The baby’s sick, and the house is a wreck. Our typical song and dance.”

  “No problem, Toby. Gotta keep the missus happy.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he said with a short chuckle. “I should be there mid-afternoon, sis. I figure we can go see a magic act or a show and have some drinks
. You can rant to me all about Pierce Maverick. Sound good?” Toby asked.

  “That sounds fantastic. I’ll meet you at the strip around noon. Say hello to Margret and the troublemaker for me? Hope he feels better.”

  “Of course, I’ll see ya Tuesday.”

  “Bye.” I hung up and looked out my balcony window at the city of Vegas below. As the pink and purple sky signaled the end of the day, I knew the city’s night life was just beginning. I couldn’t wait to see my brother. I knew he would take my mind off my frustrations with this project and my confusion over Pierce. Maybe Toby could help me understand my ridiculous attraction to the impervious Maverick man. Until then, I was on my own with him, and that included our faux date tonight.

  ~*~*~*~

  I looked in the mirror for the tenth time. I wore a simple black cocktail dress, and my hair was in a messy chignon. My makeup was a light smoky eye that I matched with a light pink lip gloss. Puckering in the mirror, I began to feel strangely inadequate, a feeling I wasn’t particularly accustomed to when it came to men who weren’t my father. Will the women at the restaurant think Pierce could do so much better?

  I didn’t know why I was so nervous. The man had been driving me nuts with his insane plans for this project, and besides, this was just a celebratory drink. Nothing more. In my head, however, it had morphed into something much, much more. I couldn’t stop trying to smooth out my dress even though it didn’t need it. My stilettos were already killing my small feet, but I ignored the pain. This was going to be my first night out in Vegas since we arrived a few nights earlier, and I wanted it to be done right.

  I rolled my eyes at my reflection. Was I being completely ridiculous? The man was arrogant, slightly childish, and all around annoying. Our families hated each other. So why in Christ’s name did I want to sleep with him so badly? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t deny the crazy heat between us. When he grabbed my arm earlier, I could literally feel it pulsating through me. Somehow the sensation made me feel more alive than I had been in years—as though he had inexplicably awakened something deep inside of me that had been buried under lock and key. Now that my sensual prowess had been aroused and revived, it could hardly be put back to sleep, locked once again in a secret chamber. I wanted to explore, to rediscover, to experience. I wondered if he did as well. Shaking my head, I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had entered my mind.