Page 6 of Smooth Talk

“I have an appointment in the afternoon, but I’m available in the morning. Would 10:00 work?”

“If we could move it to 10:30, that would be perfect. I have an early meeting and I’m not sure how late it will run.”

“I’ll put it on my calendar. I brought some photos of some of my previous work, but it would be helpful if you shared your wants and needs for the space.”

“All right; let’s eat first though. I can get rather unpleasant to be around when I haven’t eaten in a while, and I haven’t eaten since five this morning. I think you younger people call it getting hangry,” we share a small laugh together, “and it would be a pity to let Gabriel’s food get cold before we get the chance to enjoy it. He’s watching us now, isn’t he?” I peer over her shoulder sneakily and see a handsome man with dark hair peering through the door to the kitchen. I nod at her. “I’d rather not upset him, he doesn’t like it when you disrespect his cuisine” she says smiling, “between you and I,” she whispers conspiratorially, “he takes his food too seriously. Although right now, I’m not going to complain about it,” she ends with a wink.

We eat, discuss the space, and enjoy the next hour in each other’s company. The Queen of Willow Creek is quite down to earth and charming. Knowledgeable about art and music and the city’s history. The cottage acted as a playhouse for her children when they were younger. While the interior has remained untouched, she had the exterior restored and renovated about a year ago. Both the cottage and the family’s sprawling Victorian are on the register of historic places. I am so giddy; I cannot wait to see them.

Family is important to her. I learned that she has been happily married for almost 40 years, has four sons and two daughters and loves her grand fur babies as if they're real grandchildren, which she cannot wait to have. I can hear the concern in her voice when she admits she’s not sure if it will happen in her lifetime.

Her mother, Mimi as they call her, is having hip replacement surgery and will be temporarily moving into Rose Cottage while she recuperates. We will have a little over four weeks to finish the project while her mother does inpatient physical rehab. Her surgery is slated for later this week. That doesn’t give us a lot of time.

“Oh, my goodness,” she says looking at her watch, “I didn’t realize I’d taken up so much of your time Poppy. I’ve enjoyed chatting with you.”

“It was an absolute pleasure Caroline.” I stand, smiling, and extend my hand over the table to shake hers. My earlier worry and nerves have completely faded away.

“Yes, I apologize for spending the majority of our time talking about myself.” She looks a little sheepish.

“Not at all. It’s part of the process. I can’t create a space for you if I don’t know you.”

“Regardless, tomorrow you’ll have to tell me about yourself, and,” she trails off, her eye catching on something behind me. I swear I see an actual twinkle in her eye then a broad smile graces her face. The slight creases formed from the movement don’t do a thing to diminish her beauty. Man, this woman either has excellent genes or excellent doctors. I hope I look half as gorgeous as she does at 59.

She drops my hand, “You’re late darling.” I barely have time to register what’s happening. The hottest man I have ever seen and probably will ever see IRL is standing next to me and bending down to kiss Caroline’s cheek. That dark blue suit is everything. It fits his tall sculpted form perfectly. I work extra hard to pick my jaw up off the floor and remove my eyes from his backside before he turns to meet my gaze. My brain is short circuiting. He looks oddly familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen him before.

“Sorry mother. I was detained.” His Southern drawl comes in the form of a deep rasp. Basically, it’s what you imagine an eight-pack with just the right amount of happy trail sounds like. Sexy. After burning a path from hair to heels, shrewd hazel eyes reach mine. “It appears you weren’t left to fend for yourself though.” He smirks, which causes a dimple to pop on his left cheek. Wow. I think my panties just spontaneously combusted. I’ve never experienced this before; the damp heat now scorching my inner thighs makes me think my underpants have actually melted. “Care to introduce me to your friend?” he asks his mother without taking his eyes off me.

“Grayson, this is Poppy Monroe, of PM Designs. If we can come to an agreement,” she smiles at me gauging my response, like there’s any way in heck I’d say no, “she’ll be working on Rose Cottage for the next few weeks.”

I manage to hold out my hand for an introduction, but my brain to mouth synapses are not currently functioning. And thank God my voice isn’t either, because the only thought I currently have running through my mind right now is how badly I want to lick. That. Dimple. And that would be a wholly inappropriate thing to say (not to mention, do) the first time you meet someone. Especially in front of his mother. Whom you’ve also just met for the first time. And had a rather successful business meeting with. Cheese and Rice! Head in the game Poppy. Focus.

I’ve seen pictures of him before, of course, but, holy butterflies, seeing the man in the flesh is completely disconcerting. I don’t know that I’ve met someone who looks this much better in person than they do in a magazine. They airbrush those things to the max to hide people’s flaws, and from where I’m standing, I can’t see any. No wonder the media’s obsessed.

“Poppy, this is my eldest son, Grayson. He’s an attorney and, as I’m sure you are aware, currently running for mayor of Willow Creek.”

He smiles at me (even his dang teeth are perfect) and his hand touches mine. Holy lava. In. My. Veins. I suck in a small gasp. His large, strong hand engulfs mine, the grip slightly tightening; heat blazes up my arm and, apparently, directly into my face. I feel a root-to-chin-blush tinting my skin. This must be what a hot flash feels like. Menopause is going to be so much fun. I haven’t blushed this hard in years. So embarrassing. Caroline is about to resend her invitation because there is no way she’s letting the silly schoolgirl I just morphed into, step one foot inside her posh historic home. I might as well giggle and seal the deal. No Poppy; do not set that giggle free. I grit my teeth together and take a deep breath through my nose to re-center myself and it seems to have staved off the giggles. Only now, I’ve just inhaled his masculine scent and my brain is short circuiting, yet again. It’s like cedar and oranges and man. It’s too much for my brain to handle. Starting systematic shutdown: now.

“Pleasure,” he choke-whispers. His eyes blaze into mine. Clearly, I’m not the only one affected here. I mean, he’s still cradling my hand for heaven’s sake. It’s the longest anyone’s ever shook my hand. Technically, it’s more like he’s holding it than shaking. His thumb is brushing lightly over the sensitive skin of my knuckles, and it feels so nice. The heat from his palm is sending butterflies flitting around my insides, pinging primal signals up to my brain then directly to my Fifi. They’re screaming at me, ‘wrap your legs around this man, and climb him like a tree.’ Message received—loud and clear. I need to get out of here before my limbs start obeying those pesky little monarchs’ requests.

“Let go of the poor girl Grayson. She has other engagements this afternoon. And unlike someone,” she looks at him pointedly, “she knows how rude it is to keep people waiting.” She scolds in a motherly way, smiling. He slowly (if not reluctantly) pulls his hand from mine, and I find myself curiously missing its warmth as he turns to address his mother.

With his back turned, I breathe deeply, taking time to get my raging pulse under control while ogling the magnificence before me. No harm in multitasking, right? Who knows when, or if, I’ll get this chance again? I gauge their interaction; I’ve got at least five seconds before I’m caught. While she’s chastising him and he’s looking adorably contrite, I allow my gaze to span his tall frame once more. Dark hair, almost black, longer and slightly wavy on top but cropped close on the sides (it’s slightly tousled in that sexy way that looks like he just ran his fingers through it and it naturally falls that way), tan skin, and about a days-worth of stubble. Broad shoulders, trim waist, firm backside, long legs.

That suit is entirely too flattering, or his body is just that amazing. I’d love to find out. With clothes on, his body is enough to make my panties damp. The thought of seeing it naked, makes me feel like they’ve been set on fire. Sweeping my gaze back to his chiseled jawline, my eyes, once again, catch on that dimple. He’s smirking. Uh oh. I overestimated my time, or overindulged; I’ve been caught. It’s not like I could help myself or something. I didn’t think my blush could get anymore fierce. I was so wrong; this is turning into a full-body flush. I need to leave now before my whole body bursts into flames.

“It was nice meeting you Mr. Maxwell, good luck with your campaign.” My voice comes out without so much as a squeak and at a normal volume level. Proud of my false composure right now, I manage to meet his intense gaze before I turn my attention to Caroline, who is watching me with what looks like amused curiosity. No doubt, I’m not the first woman she’s seen succumb to her son’s charms.

“Caroline, thank you so much for lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She nods to me. Before I can make a complete goober out of myself, I gather up my things and turn to leave. My limbs feel jittery, pure adrenaline courses through my veins. I’m having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. God, please don’t let me trip in front of him. Grayson Maxwell is one distracting man. I’ve never been more thankful for a dress with structure and a drill sergeant pilates instructor. Walking to the door, I feel the heat of his gaze on me the entire way. Settled firmly on my rear end.

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