Page 80 of Playboy Boss

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Scottie waited in the living room, wearing her little black dress. She’d worn it to her graduation dinner in May, and to an evening out afterward with Tara and a couple other classmates she’d kept in touch with. Not many though.

“I see cleavage. Must be a special night.” Tara walked into the living room, her Decadent Chick apron wrapped around her waist, sarcasm twisting her lips.

“You already stated your opinion, Tara. I don’t need to hear it again.” She glanced at her cell phone. Five until eight. “Where’s Brett? Can’t you annoy him instead?” That was low. Scottie felt regret immediately after.

“He isn’t around anymore. But of course, you wouldn’t know because you’ve been screwing your boss every night this week. I’ve hardly seen you.”

Scottie snapped her eyes to Tara. When had she become so cruel? She’d not remembered their relationship hitting this low in the past twenty years of their friendship.

“God, Tara. It’s not like that.” Scottie’s voice grew soft. “What happened with Brett?”

Tara sighed heavily, her head falling in her palm. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I’ve been really upset lately.”

Scottie didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t okay for Tara to treat her that way, but she forgave her anyway. “I know you have.”

“I need help with another catering job. It’s a party for fifty people on Friday. Can you do it?”

The doorbell rang. Scottie didn’t inquire about the party. With only a few more hundred dollars before she could buy her brooch back, she couldn’t refuse. Everything was finally starting to fall into place for her. “Yes, I’ll do it.” The doorbell rang again. “I have to go.”

“God, he’s demanding. Give a girl a minute to answer the door.” Tara rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen, her attitude resurfacing.

Scottie sighed, grabbing her clutch and the overnight bag she’d packed, and strode to the door with Konrad on the other side.

His blue eyes gleamed like sapphires. “My God, we may not make it to dinner.”

“We better.” She slipped outside and closed the door behind her. “I’m starving.”

He leaned down to kiss her, his moan dancing in her ear. “Yes, milady.”

Like the gentleman she’d started to see him as, Konrad opened the passenger door and helped her in the sports car. “You smell good,” he said.

“Thank you.” She rode her palms up his chest from his naval, his eyes eating her alive as she did it.

“I thought you were starving? A move like that will get you naked in my bed without dinner.”

“Oh…” She dropped her hand in her lap. “Sorry.”

He laughed, shutting the door. Scottie watched him walk around the front, all the while thinking how lucky she was. Despite any initial impression, he was perfect. He was an absolute dream. He was the dream.

Konrad drove the car through the Heights and into the Museum District to L’Atelier Restaurant. Scottie had never been there. Inside, Konrad had reserved the chef’s private table for two, complete with prix fixe menu and wine pairing. Scottie noticed all the attention they received. Konrad couldn’t be missed. With his suit and handsome looks, every set of eyes were on him. She’d have to get used to it.

She became aware of Konrad staring at her from across the table. She’d been too focused on everyone else. “What?” She felt nervous. Aware of herself.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

The heat of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “I-I don’t know.” Konrad had been the only one to say that to her with that look in his eyes. As if he really meant it.

“You should know, and you should never forget it.” He took the prix fixe menu, scanning it casually as if he hadn’t just rocked her world with his words.

The waiter came to take drink orders. Konrad ordered scotch, of course, and she ordered a lemon drop martini. He snickered when she ordered it.

When the waiter left, Konrad said, “That’s not far off from a fuzzy navel, love.”

“Shut up!” She threw a sugar packet at him, which was totally unacceptable for the fine dining restaurant.

He tossed it back at her, which was not what she expected. He was too refined to do it. “You’re in so much trouble, Scottine Roberts.”

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