Page 33 of Phillip

“Sort of. He’s friends with my mother.”

Phillip made a face. “Enough said.”

Her gaze evaded his when she should’ve at least laughed. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” He followed her line of sight but found nothing of interest.

“What’s back there?” she asked, angling for another change of topic.

“A private game room.” A sudden urge to pull her from the crowd ran through him. “Would you like me to show you?”

That had her attention. “Sure.”

“On one condition.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course there’s always a condition. What is it?”

“We pitch to Paget and ask for a car,” he said. “You work your magic. No one says no to you.”

“Of course they do—”

“And maybe the guy will act like he likes me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing. I swear.” Phillip crossed his heart. “We’re just two different kinds of people.”

She hummed as she considered the condition. “If I agree to pitch him?”

Phillip grinned. “You’ll get a private tour of the Vault, maybe the distillery, and, fingers crossed, we get one hell of a car.”

Her pupils flared, making clear her interest resonated with the private tour more than the car. Phillip leaned forward. “What do you say?”

A soft blush colored her cheeks. “Deal.”

What had started as a simple offer of a tour had built into an urge for time alone.

“But we need a plan,” she added, too quickly, as though reading his mind.

Phillip saw a flicker of desire flare in her eyes. “A plan for our tour?” The corners of his lips pulled. “Why’s that?”

“A plan because,” she continued, “without one, we could get distracted and off track. Nothing would get done.”

He’d never wanted for a distraction so badly before. His chest tightened, but he pulled back. There was merit to a plan. Hers might be short term—set objectives to wrangle their chemistry then spark a fire that neither would be able to resist—but he would play the long game.

Step one: Show her that golf cart crash was a one-off and rebuild her trust.

He’d grown up since the last time they were together. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve. But they were funny, not dangerous or involving live animals. He was well on his way to mastering step one.

Step two: Counteract the vileness her mother had planted in her subconscious.

Ashley couldn’t realize how much he knew about Agatha Cartwright. But even knowing what he did, Phillip didn’t think he had the full scope. Ashley, however, had developed a something akin to a backbone when it came to her mother. At least that was how it seemed to him. For whatever reason, he was grateful she hadn’t taken the helm of her mother’s media conglomerate.

Step three: Remind her that they work.

They had sizzle and pop in spades, and damn, it was killing him not to lick her from head to toe. How could she say no to that?

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