Page 8 of Flirt Like A Pin-Up

“Who?” In my head, I’m running through the single guys at Manning Industries. We’re not that big of a company. Forty-something engineers, a dozen or so logistics employees, and eight of us between marketing, sales, and the head office to include me and Coulter. We have another thirty or so on the manufacturing floor to include quality and safety, but none of them deal with Margot. Although, now that I think about it, Latham might bring her to the plant on occasion when he and the engineers meet with them.

He chucks me on the arm. “You, man. Do you really think you’re slick? Like anyone paying attention hasn’t seen the way you look at her, or the way her demeanor changes around you. Why the two of you aren’t together is beyond me.”

His candor takes me aback. We’ve traveled together a few times over the last year, so we’ve been social and know the basics about each other’s lives. We even drink together while wining and dining potential clients, so I’ve seen him use his game on the ladies, and I know he has the skills to close the deal with beautiful women in hotel bars. But I didn’t know anyone other than Coulter saw my desire for Margot, and I definitely didn’t expect anyone other than me to clock the difference between the flirting she does with everyone and teasing she does with me.

Tyson stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Sorry if I’ve overstepped, Camden. It’s none of my business what happens in either of your personal lives. But I will restate my opinion that she should be our administrative assistant and maybe even dip her toes into sales, because she’d be great at forging relationships with perspective clients.”

I blow out my breath and pull my car keys from my pocket. “I’ll talk to Coulter about it when they get back, especially since Brooklyn might be cutting back at work to get her master’s degree.”

* * *

I think about what Tyson said on my drive to the restaurant. Not about how Margot is better suited for our department—because I already knew that—but how obvious it is that we desire each other. Deep down, I know I haven’t hidden my feelings well, although I’ve never said a word to anyone except Coulter, and even then, I was tight-lipped about what happened between her and I.

If everyone can see it, what do I have to do to open her eyes and make her believe there is more to me than a couple weeks of mindless sex before I get bored and move on? How do I convince her I’m interested in building something more when the only way I know how to talk to her is through filthy words and carnal touch?

How do I convince a woman hell-bent on never letting a man get close to let me love her?

I’m thirty minutes early when I pull up to the restaurant, but if Margot wasn’t involved, I’d have been here an hour ago. Christof is sitting at a table laughing with Margot and another woman whom I believe is his restaurant manager, Connie. I know Christof from a few high-profile functions around town. He’s only a year or two older than me, and another Spring City native—although, he’s from the south part of town where I’m from the north end, the two sides divided by money and opportunity. But Christof broke through all those socioeconomic barriers and is now a successful restauranteur, owning three of the top-rated restaurants in the city. He’s also number six on the Spring City’s Top Ten Most Eligible Bachelors Under Thirty list. I’m number five. Coulter was number one, but gave up his crown when he married Brooklyn last week.

Margot flashes me a smile and stands up as soon as I walk through the door. “You’re early.”

I arch my brow. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, but the point of having me assist you is that you don’t have to double check everything.”

“You’re bound and determined to make me dependent upon you, aren’t you?”

Her smile widens, and she throws me a surreptitious wink. “It’s called job security, Mr. Manning. Why do you think Chris Latham can’t find his presentations without me?”

Christof steps beside her and offers his hand. “How’s it going, Camden?”

“Busy with Coulter gone.” We shake hands and then I shake Connie’s hand, whom I met a few weeks ago when scheduling this location. Since they are normally closed for lunch, we have the place to ourself, which was important to me.

“That sure was a nice wedding. Low-key, but classy. Did you really grow up in that house?” Christof asks.

“Yes and no. We spent a lot of time there as teenagers before leaving for college.”

“Nice pile of bricks.” Christof gives me a nod and then gestures to the kitchen. “Connie and I are going to check on lunch. If you want something to drink, Daniel is behind the bar.”

I turn to Margot, who is smiling up at me. “You want something to drink?”

“During the workday?”

“I think you can handle one Cosmo.” I know that’s her drink of choice.

“Only if you have one, too.”

Sliding my hand onto the small of her back, I turn her toward the bar. “Let’s do it.”

We grab our drinks and sit in a booth with a clear shot of the door. An awkward silence descends between us, and I realize this is why she doesn’t think I want more than a fling. I know more about her than she thinks because I’ve done my research, but maybe I should be asking her directly. “Tell me something about yourself, Margot.”

Her eyes narrow. “What do you want to know?”

“Are you a Spring City native?”

“Yes.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

---