Page 63 of No More Billionaires

“Okay, fine.” I leaned in close to her, keeping my voice low. “We became friends. You were right—he is a sweet guy, and I’m glad I got a chance to know him, but it doesn’t mean—”

“Good morning.” Larson’s sunny voice came from behind me as he approached our desks, setting a steaming to-go cup of coffee on Deb’s desk and a cold bottle of Diet Dr. on mine.

“Bless you child,” Deb said, grabbing the cup greedily.

I shook off a shiver and twisted in my chair to see him. “Thank you. How are you? All rested up?”

Larson lifted a brow and gave me one of his patented toe-curling grins, causing my mind to go directly back to the loft in the cabin.

His voice was a low caress. “I slept very well. And you?”

Another shiver. “Um, yes.”

That was a lie.

I’d had an extremely restless night, plagued with dreams about what he’d done to me with his mouth and hands and what I’d wanted him to do before the lack of protection had stopped us.

Why were we talking about beds and sleeping anyway? Was this an appropriate topic for work?

“I’m planning to load in the interviews we shot and log them this morning,” I said.

There. Work talk. Good.

“Great. I’ll get started on writing the story. Why don’t we have lunch today so we can go over our notes?” he asked. “Maybe we could go down to the food court or eat in my office—whatever you want.”

“Oh. Yes. Sure. Fine. See you later, then.” I turned toward my monitor and logged in, hoping the redness of my cheeks would be offset by the electronic glow.

Larson walked off toward his desk, whistling—whistling—and Deb kicked my leg under our conjoined desks.

“Friends, huh? Wish I could find afriendlike that.”

I looked up to catch her knowing grin before we both turned back to our monitors and got to work.

* * *

Larson and I sat at a table in the food court, and he did actually steer the conversation toward work.

I, however, had a hard time concentrating on anything other than how beautiful his hazel eyes were and wonderinghow can anyone’s mouth look so sexy while chewing French fries?

Apparently, Larson’s thoughts weren’t all-business either, because at one point, he sneaked a hand across the table and grazed my fingers with his.

“I’d like to see you tonight,” he said quietly. “Take you out for something a little nicer than a vacuum-sealed salad?”

I smiled. “Okay. Where?”

“Let me surprise you. I could pick you up at eight.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, preparing to type. “What’s your address in Alpharetta?”

I stiffened. “Oh. I… why don’t I just meet you? I’d hate for you to drive all the way out there.”

Nowaywas I going to subject him to my mother. I didn’t even want her to know about us, much less have a chance to put in her two cents with Larson about what a fine breeding partner I’d make.

She’d probably produce my medical records and college transcript. And I could just hear her now, dropping the names of the rich and semi-famous people she knew from the country club and intimating our family was from some prestigious Southern hereditary line when we were absolutely not.

Larson’s face quirked with amusement. “Don’t be silly. I think you’re worth a driveall the wayout to the suburbs. Besides, I want to meet this sister you’ve told me so much about, and your parents… whom you’ve told me nothing about, now that I think of it.”

“No, really. I’d rather just meet you somewhere.” I gave him a forcedno big dealsmile, keeping my tone breezy.

He didn’t buy it. His eyes narrowed, and he dropped his chin to look at me from under raised brows.

---