Page 21 of A Mutually Beneficial Proposal

I try to recover by laughing. “I was kidding, Owen.”

He shifts in the doorway. “Right. As was I.”

“Let me grab my phone and keycard,” I say before darting inside to grab the items. I pull my case back and slip the card inside, then realize I have nowhere to tuck my phone. I didn’t bring a cute clutch with me.

I eye my cowl neckline and frown. The dress is too low cut to hide anything there.

Owen seems to understand my predicament and says, “I think I see pockets.”

I pat my hips, and sure enough, there are two small slits in the fabric. My phone barely fits, but I’m just glad to have it on me. Being able to call for help if I need it gives me a little reassurance when I walk toward Owen again. He is a stranger after all.

He’s grinning and still has his hand out. Because it seems like the proper thing to do, I accept his gesture and step forward so that I have enough room to close the door behind me. Only Owen doesn’t move, so I end up with my ass nestled against his dick.

I take a slow inhale before forcing a smile to my face, pretending I didn’t just feel his hard length.

“Ready?” I ask.

He grunts and finally takes a step back, but he stays close enough that he can guide my hand to wrap around his forearm while he leads the way to the elevator.

When we enter, I finally have a moment to take in the rest of my dress and the shoes. The hem of the black silk falls mid-thigh. The material hugs me enough to show off my curves, but not too tight that I’m afraid to move the wrong way.

The black heels give me an added three inches of height and are close-toed, which I appreciate since I didn’t make my pedicure appointment before leaving.

“Thank you for having these delivered,” I say while glancing down at myself.

He gives me another appraising look. “I’m glad they fit.”

“I’d ask how you knew my sizes, but I don’t think I want to know,” I reply with a forced chuckle.

Owen stiffens next to me. “My first job was working in a clothing department store.”

I mentally smack my forehead. I’m making this situation more awkward than a blind date, and we haven’t even arrived at the mixer. This further proves that I’m the problem when it comes to men. I need to keep my thoughts to myself and just be here to smile while standing at Owen’s side.

Yes, that’s safest for all parties.

When the doors open, we’re on the rooftop. I hadn’t paid attention when Owen scanned his card and selected our destination, so I do my best to hide my surprise.

The sun is setting, casting deep orange and red colors across the sky as it darkens above. There are twinkle lights strung around the white canopies and also between them, offering the only light I can see. A DJ is set up in the back left corner, and a wooden dance floor sits empty in front of him.

“Are you hungry?” Owen asks, gesturing to the three rows of finger foods.

I lick my lips but shake my head. “Maybe later.”

“Owen, come on over here,” a man bellows from the middle of the room.

“That’s Jack,” Owen whispers in my ear and slides his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his side.

I do my best not to stiffen, or worse, lick him. Owen smells divine. It’s a woodsy scent that is more refreshing than overpowering to my senses.

The man Owen called Jack is staring at us while we make our way to him. Even with his clearly dyed brown hair, I assume him to be in his late fifties, maybe even early sixties, based on the wrinkles deepening around his eyes when he smiles big for everyone watching.

There is a younger woman standing beside him, but she almost seems like an afterthought to him when Jack steps forward to greet us.

He reaches his hand for Owen. “Good to see you with clothes on, Owen.”

The group standing around us laughs in unison, and I cringe.

“Yeah, I really should learn to take those runs of mine while wearing a suit,” Owen deadpans and I snort, but nobody else laughs. Tough crowd.

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