Page 17 of My Boss is a Billionaire

“You’re picking at your food.”

I glance up when Sally speaks.

She uses her fork to point at my plate, waving the utensil around. “You’re just pushing it around.”

“It’s pizza.”

“And you’ve cut it up and you’re shoving it around on the plate. I don’t think you’ve taken a single bite.”

I feel my cheeks redden. “Sorry. Guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.”

Sally puts her fork down, pushes her plate away, and crosses her arms on the table. “Want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really? You’re acting like your puppy just died, or like you lost the love of your life. You’re allergic to dogs, so I’ll venture a guess it’s about a certain billionaire in town.”

I jerk my head up. We were discreet. We hadn’t said anything to anyone. I only met him at his hotel twice. And I can’t be in love with him. That’s not possible after only a few days.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about it.” I pick up my slice of pizza, pop it in my mouth, rip off a piece, and start chewing. The pepperoni is spicy, the cheese is gooey, and it all feels like cardboard between my teeth.

“Do I need to remind you of the Springdale gossip train?”

“Um…”

“Look, Harper. It’s a small town. People see things. They hear things. And they make crap up. But when there’s a shiny black limo in town carting around a very handsome rich man, there are eyes everywhere.”

Oh, shit.

“Ms. Pauline told Mrs. Webster, who told Mr. Arnold, who of course told Mrs. Arnold, who then went to Marty to ask him if it was true. Mind you, Marty doesn’t have a clue about these things, but he asked us. And, Harper, honey, the sparks flying between you and Mr. Jacobs whenever you’re within spitting distance of each other is nothing to laugh at. I’m surprised you haven’t set the office on fire.”

My mouth is hanging open. My eyes must be as round as saucers.

“The only thing I want to know, and I promise not to tell anybody, is…” She drops her voice to a whisper and leans closer. “Is he good in bed? Because he looks like he’d be really good in bed. If you get my meaning.”

Oh, I get it.

Images flash across my mind. Hot, sexy, passionate flickers of our time together.

I force a polite smile on my face. “I don’t think my personal life is something to be discussed over pizza, Sally.”

“Oh, come on,” she says, sitting back in her chair. “Don’t be like that. I’m only trying to help. And pizza is the perfect meal choice for this conversation.”

I take another bite of my slice of pizza.

“Okay, if you don’t want to confess his prowess, then tell me what happened between the two of you?”

“It’s no big deal. We had a couple of meals together and talked.”

“And…?”

“And I told him I don’t like how he does business.”

“He was pissed about the articles you wrote. That’s why he came here, isn’t it? That’s why he bought the paper?” Now her eyes are big and open like she just discovered a deep dark secret.

“It’s not a big deal. He doesn’t appreciate the picture I painted of him and his business tactics. He explained to me what he does and why. We left it there.”

Sally takes a sip of her soda. “Are you sure?”

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