Page 11 of Second Time Around
A ping sounded from her back pocket, indicating she’d gotten his text, and she started to reach for her phone.
“Read it later,” he said with a roguish glint in his eyes. He placed his empty glass on the tray. “My apologies, but I have to go. Overseas business makes for odd working hours.”
“I guess CEOs don’t get paid for overtime.”
“Actually, we do. A great deal, in fact.” He stood up.
She followed suit, picking up the tray to use as a barrier between them. Her comment seemed to have triggered a shift into executive mode because the lines of his face hardened and his chin took on an arrogant upward tilt, making him look less like the Will she’d known at Brunell and more like the formidable businessman he was now.
“Thanks for the invitation,” she said, awkward now that they had returned to their current roles in life.
“Thanks for the drink.” He leaned across the tray to give her the barest brush of his lips on her cheek. Even that made her want to close her eyes to savor the shiver of delight it sent scudding over her skin.
As he strode away, she watched the women’s heads turn as they had at Ceres, some blatantly, some more subtly because they were with a date. But almost every female looked. And she was going to a party with him.
“The text,” she muttered, shifting the tray to one hand so she could grab her phone and thumb her way to the message.
I would not wish any companion in the world but you.
