Page 71 of Dial B for Billionaire

“Tell her you had an early morning meeting.”

“At six forty-five?”

“Very early.” I pull her back against me. “With a very demanding colleague.”

“Bennett.” But she's smiling. “I need to go home and change. I can't show up to the office in yesterday's clothes.”

“Why not?”

She gives me a look. “Because unlike you, I don't keep spare suits at the office. And because people already think we're sleeping together.”

“Technically, we are.”

“You know what I mean.” She tries to look stern but ruins it by playing with my chest hair. “We need to be discrete.”

“We are being discrete. You're here, not at the Four Seasons with a camera crew.”

“Your bar for discrete is concerningly low.”

I kiss her shoulder. “Stay for coffee at least. I have a machine that makes it as good as a barista.”

“Of course you do.” But she's already melting back against me. “One coffee. Then I really need to go.”

“Deal.”

Thirty minutes later, she's showered and wearing one of my dress shirts, perched on my kitchen counter while I operate the infamous coffee machine. Her legs swing freely, and I find myself standing between them, unable to resist touching her.

“This is very domestic,” she observes, accepting the perfect cappuccino I hand her.

“Disappointed?”

“The opposite.” She takes a sip and moans in a way that makes me reconsider letting her leave. “Oh my god. Itake back every mean thing I said about your fancy coffee maker.”

“I'll buy you one.”

“Bennett.” Her tone shifts to warning. “No expensive gifts. That's not what this is.”

“What is this?” I ask, genuinely curious.

She sets down her cup, hands coming to rest on my shoulders. “This is us trying. One day at a time. Without grand gestures or complications.”

“I don't do things halfway.”

“I know.” Her thumb strokes along my jaw. “But maybe you could try doing them... three-quarters of the way? For me?”

“Three-quarters.” I pretend to consider. “That's a significant reduction in efficiency.”

“I'll make it worth your while.”

“Deal.”

She kisses me, soft and sweet, tasting like expensive coffee and possibilities. When we break apart, her eyes are warm.

“I really do need to go.”

“I know.”

Neither of us moves.

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