Page 2 of Kiss Me

Liza smirks. “What are you talking about? You look great in this black and white jumpsuit. And your braids look fire over your shoulders in all of the shots,” she compliments.

I peer down at the jumpsuit from the apparel company. It does fit great, and the logos are perfectly placed where they can be seen but aren’t too showy in displaying the brand’s name.

“Dad made the right choice in going with this company,” I tell her. “The material’s perfect too. Not too itchy or bulky during my rides. Maybe I should take this one out later and—” I cut myself off, realizing what I was about to say.

“And what?” Liza asks, but her attention is on the phone in her hands. Her thumbs fly furiously over the screen.

“Never mind. Lunch should be ready soon, right? I’m starving.”

“Yes.” She stuffs her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and then finishes with, “The chef agreed to stick to the special menu your dad sent over from your nutritionist.”

I barely stifle my groan. “I bet he did,” I mumble. “Is that who you were just texting?”

Liza nods, confirming my suspicions. “He wanted to know how the shoot went. I told him everything went smoothly. I—” She’s cut off and reaches for her phone again.

“That’s him,” she says, looking at her phone. “He’s requesting some untouched images.”

I roll my eyes. “Didn’t we get pre-approval already?”

“We did, but you know how Mr. Casey is. Your father doesn’t settle for anything but the best.”

“Especially not when it comes to his Ace,” Liza and I say at the same time.

A genuine smile crosses my lips. While I wouldn’t consider us the best of friends, she and I have developed a friendly bond in the two years since she’s taken on the role of my business and personal assistant.

Not that I have anything close to a personal life. Not with a schedule as tight as mine. And especially not with a Dad-ager-slash-agent who takes special care to ensure every aspect of my life is free of distractions or even the hint of a scandal.

“Oh, and he?—”

Covering her phone with my hand, I stop Liza. I slide her phone from her hands and press the power button, turning the screen black. “We’ve both been up since six a.m. How about we take some time off and go have lunch?” I suggest.

Except, it’s not a suggestion. Which I make clear by slipping her cell into the pocket of my jumpsuit.

“But what if?—”

“My dad will be okay for an hour or two without a response. Let’s eat.” I press the crutch I don’t really need to my side before wrapping my free arm around hers.

“Be careful of your ankle,” she warns, frowning as she looks down at my ankle. “Lean on me more.” She holds firm to my arm, making me lean more of my weight onto her smaller five-foot-three frame.

“We should get those boots off of you ASAP. I’ll have the staff bring out some ice packs and pillows so you can elevate it while we eat.”

“Right,” I say under my breath. “My ankle.”

Another scanof the dining area doesn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.

“What’s the matter?” Liza questions. “Is it your ankle? I knew we should’ve taken a seat on the couch instead of at a table. Let me?—”

I stay her with my hand over hers. “My ankle is fine.” I peer over at my right leg propped up on one of the black fancy leather chairs, a pillow underneath my ankle and a wrapped, half-melted ice pack over it.

“There wasn’t even any swelling, remember?” I remind her.

She nods. “That’s right. You’re lucky. After standing on your ankle for hours during that shoot. The sprain must be healing quickly, just like the doctor said,” she finishes.

A twinge of guilt grips my chest, but it isn’t given time to fester before our private waiter is back at our table.

The cute redhead smiles down at the both of us, but his eyes linger on Liza. “The chef personally made an extra batch of gingerbread cookies for your table.”

“Mmm, excellent,” I say and snatch a cookie from the plate.

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