Page 30 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

They’re all waiting.

“Somebody is engaging in some extremely fanciful thinking,” I say.

Francine hums the first few notes.Hm-hmmmm-hm-hmm.

I shake my head.Drop it,that’s what the headshake says.

“You know you have to now,” she says.

I give her a hard look.

She hums onward, unperturbed.

My heart pounds.

As the tune swells, she raises up her hands.

Our dining companions are laughing. They’re getting quite the opposite-world idea about me at this point.

She’s humming, raising her arms up, orchestra-conductor-style.

I grab her hands. Her skin is soft and warm, pulsing with life.

Her eyes widen and she stops humming.

I’m gripping her hands, suspended between us.

Our dinner companions are still laughing merrily, but my ears have stopped working thanks to the connection of us, skin on skin. That’s how much she’s fucking annoying me.

I raise her left hand to my lips, holding her gaze. Is she running this show? No. I press my lips to one knuckle, brushing my lips over her knucklebone.

Her nostrils flare, eyes wide with shock.

“Aww,” somebody says.

I pull back with a cool smile, ignoring the rush of sensation, keeping hold of her hands. If she thinks she’s the one in the driver’s seat here, she’s sadly mistaken.

This close I can see the sooty lashes that rim her deep brown eyes, see the places where they’re just a little bit clumped together thanks to the eyelash glue that dancers use as part of their stage makeup. It was a major dancer complaint back in the Beau Cirque days, getting eyelash glue off the eyelashes.

Her eyes begin again to sparkle and I know she’s going to do it—that’s how fucking predictable she is.

She hums a few more notes—Hmm-hmmmm.Because that’s Francine. She just never quits.Hmm-hmm-hm-hmmmm.

I kiss her next knuckle. People are laughing. We look like quite the comedy team.

She keeps on humming, but she’s going to have to work a hell of a lot harder to make this into a problem for me. So far, in fact, it’s working out brilliantly. A tax break and now this expert image resuscitation. I really might become a proponent of marriage after all.

“Consider this a rain check,” says Juliana, laughing. “A rain check that I plan on cashing.”

I realize here that I’m still holding Francine’s hands. I let her go. What were we even talking about before?

Francine turns to Juliana. “Hold him to it. Because he totally thinks he just got out of it.”

Right, the song.

Talk at the table turns to business. Juliana has questions about some of the files we sent. Tablets and phones come out. Drinks and appetizers come and go.

Aaron is answering questions, looking distinctly unhappy. It didn’t help that she made that comment about my hatred of working for others, which is…entirely accurate. Or was at one time.

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