Page 6 of No More Billionaires

When she was out of earshot, Cadence whispered, “So—I’m freaking starved. Wanna go grab a burger at Sonic with me?”

“Absolutely,” I whispered back, and we both giggled, trying to keep the sound down.

“Bring me back a number four,” Daddy said. “And a Master Blast.”

THREE

Not Lovely

When I got in to work the next day, Larson was leaning against my desk talking to Deb.

Shoot. He looked amazing as usual.

His dark suit pants draped perfectly over his miles-long legs. His arms were folded across his chest, highlighting some very solid biceps under the fine fabric of his dress shirt.

He hadn’t put on his jacket and tie yet, and the top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened. He didn’t go to hair and makeup until just before the show—his hair now was a bit windblown, making him look a little less put-together and a little more yummy than usual.

Seeing me approach, he gave me a bright crinkly-eyed smile.

Shoot, shoot, shoot.

“We missed you last night—you should’ve come. A certain network veteran stopped by and started telling war stories from the early days of cable news. It got very colorful.”

“I’ll bet it was interesting,” I said, keeping my tone polite, but not overly engaged.

My gaze bounced around the newsroom, settling on anything but his face. We were more or less eye level with each other as he still hadn’t gotten off my desk.

“So what was on the menu for the family dinner?” he asked.

Why the hell would you care?

That’s what I was thinking. What I actually said was, “Chicken and dumplings.”

“Sounds tempting,” he murmured.

And my focus flew to his face. His hazel eyes. They were a magical combination of light brown and golden green and changed slightly depending on what color tie he wore.

You could tell on camera he had nice eyes, but they were even prettier up close in person. I shifted my gaze to my feet.

“Oh, you probably want your desk back. I guess I’ll move my lazy ass and let you sit down,” he said with a low laugh.

Which I ignored. I kept my eyes to the floor and nodded.

Larson stood and took a step away from the desk, and I took my seat, turning my attention to Deb.

“Hey. How was your morning? How’s Owen?”

Deb was a single parent to just about the cutest seven-year-old I’d ever seen. Since I’d grown up without brothers or even male cousins, her tales of little boy mischief were equal parts frightening and entertaining—like a good horror movie.

And she seemed to have endless patience. Sometimes I found myself wishing she was my own mom.

“Oh, he’s great. He lost a tooth this morning when he was brushing. It went down the drain, and he was devastated for about five minutes until he figured out a solution.”

“A solution?”

“Yeah—for the tooth fairy. He finally asked me to cut his fingernails and left some in an envelope under his pillow as a substitute.”

“Lucky tooth fairy.” I laughed.

---