Page 23 of Under His Touch

“I could have gotten those for you,” I say, as I hover at least a foot over her head.

She shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m an independent woman used to doing things myself.”

I nod but for some reason that ticks me off. I love that she’s independent, but it would be nice if she had someone to rely on, someone to call when, oh, I don’t know, when she’s stuck and needs to find a new venue. She’s so different from the women in my circle, and it makes me want to help her all the more.

She fills the bowls with thick, creamy soup, and hands them to me. “Take them in there,” she says, and nods to the office at the end of the hall. “I’ll grab us some sandwiches.”

I balance the soup and carefully make my way down the hall. I glance in, find a desk scattered with papers, and know I’ve come to the right place. I set the soup down. One in front of her big comfy chair and one across from her.

“I see you’re still messy,” I say when she comes in.

“Excuse me,” she says, pretending she’s offended by the remark, but the grin lingering on her lips tells another story. “It’s called organized chaos.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? I’ll be sure to remember that.” She sits across from me, and smiles. My God, she is so beautiful. “Amanda has a nice setup.”

“She’s really hoping to grow. If we pull off the wedding of the century, her business is going to skyrocket. I really want that for her.”

I dip my spoon into the soup and taste it. “If everything she makes tastes this great, I’d be happy to hand her name around.”

“You’d do that?” she asks, beaming, and for some reason being able to make her this happy thrills me and fucks me over at the same time.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, like it’s nothing, but it’s obviously not nothing to Megan.

“Thank you,” she says, and I love how much she cares about her friend’s well-being. She always was kind and thoughtful, a giver. My mind rewinds to the way she gave me her body, and my cock thickens. Shit.

“Okay, so fill me in on what I need to know,” I say, getting us both back on track.

As we eat, Megan opens her laptop and turns it my way. I read through the conversation and get myself up to speed. “I must say. I’m impressed. You’re pretty good at pretending to be me.”

“After going over all those forms I think I know you better than I know myself.”

We both nod at that, and I lean back in my chair and bite into my sandwich when her phone rings. “Excuse me for a second.” She swipes her finger across her phone. “Hey, Sara, what’s up?” she asks. I busy myself with the brochure Amanda gave me and listen to the one-sided conversation. It doesn’t take long to figure out Sara is putting together a last-minute anniversary party for her folks, and Megan is organizing it.

“You’re never going to believe who is sitting across from me this very minute,” Megan says, glancing at me. “Nope...nope...nope,” she says, and winks. “You give up? Okay, I’ll give you a hint. He helped me get you home from that party when you thought it would be a good idea to drink too much and dance on the table.” She laughs and nods her head. “That’s right, none other than Alec Carson.” A moment and then she respo

nds, “He’s good. Yeah, sure we can all get together soon, talk about old times.” She goes quiet for a minute. “Well, I can ask him, but I’m not sure he’d be interested. He’s a busy guy.” Megan grabs a pen, takes a couple notes as Sara talks, then she responds with, “I’m, ah...working on an event for him. I’ll explain the details later, over drinks tonight at Onyx when we hash out the details for the anniversary party.”

After she ends the call, she crinkles her nose. “Sorry about that.”

“She wants you to invite me to the anniversary party?”

“Ah, yeah. You don’t have to go, of course.”

“I’ll go.”

Her brow furrows.

“Sure, why not,” I say. “I always liked your aunt and uncle. It would be nice to see them again.”

“Oh, okay. Sara was out of town on business, and I’m scrambling to pull this off in two weeks. Thank God, Amanda could fit us in and cater the event.”

“About this schoolteacher,” I say.

“Right.” She shows me the woman’s picture, and with blond hair cut short, she’s cute enough in that girl-next-door way, but she’s no Megan.

Megan frowns and glances at me. “I’m not sure you should wear a Gucci suit. I’d like for you to dress just a bit more casual for your first meeting.”

I arch a brow. “Is this where you take me shopping?”

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