Page 30 of Serving the Mogul

“Fine.” I leaned against the window and stared off into the distance. “You got any suggestions? I don’t even know why she stopped talking to me.”

“Hmmm.” Lips pursed, Gianni strolled back to her desk and sat down, long legs stretched out in front of her. “How did the date go Friday night? What did you do?”

I told her and watched as she grinned, clearly pleased.

“Alright, James. Do what you did last time,” she said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “Get creative. You figured out something that appealed to her. So do it again.”

Thirteen

Tina

The wordsin front of me ran together. Dropping the pen, I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes.

Roseanne from Hattie’s Place had cautiously given me the green light after talking with the various board members, although the meeting wasn’t until tomorrow. I didn’t have any other projects to work on, so I was roughing out the blueprints and making calls to gauge availability with my preferred contractors.

I’d only been at it for a few hours when I felt a low-level headache, and my eyelids weighed about five pounds each.

Sighing, I dropped my head on the chair’s padded rest and closed my eyes.

Last night had been yet another restless one, plagued by hot, hungry dreams that had woken me twice, both times achy with need and angry at James Maximus all over again.

The bastard.

I should have known better than to go out with him after everything I’d heard. And sleeping with him...what the hell had I been thinking?

“You weren’t.” Once I’d let my guard down and agreed to go out with him, I’d lost all control. I’d looked into his dark, intoxicating gaze, and my panties all but melted off.

My phone rang, and I grabbed it, answering as I fought a rush of hot embarrassment.

“Hello, Siegler Designs.”

“Ms. Siegler?” A polite, formal voice intoned.

“Yes, this is her.”

“Hello, Ms. Siegler. I’m Miranda Wilkins, and I work for James Maximus of Maximus Unlimited. Please hold?”

The line clicked before I could say the words that immediately leaped to my tongue—a firm, resounding, Hell no.

Then the line clicked again, and he was on the phone.

“Hello, Tina.”

“Mr. Maximus.” His voice had been polite and coolly professional. Fine. I could do that too. And when he asked me out for drinks this time, I’d tell him to shove those drinks where the sun doesn’t shine.

He didn’t bother to correct my use of his last name.

Leaning back in my chair, already preparing my politest kiss-my-ass speech, I waited for whatever shit he had lined up this time.

“I’ve checked out some of your work with the firm here in Houston and in San Francisco, and you have an impressive portfolio. I’d like your opinion on a project starting soon. Is your schedule open for new clients?”

My polite kiss-my-ass speech froze on my tongue.

“Tina?”

Talk, you idiot!

“I’m looking at my calendar,” I said in a flat voice. So much for thinking Maximus wasn’t the sort to mix business with pleasure.

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