Page 47 of Mr. Hook-up

But they were meeting in an hour, and that meant I would get minimal work done over the next sixty minutes. There were piles on my desk that needed to be read, and plans for tomorrow’s testing that had to be sorted out. I had at least forty emails to reply to.

“I know you’re slammed,” Easton said. “We’ve put a lot on your plate and you probably had every intention of staying late to get some work done, but there’s always tomorrow to complete those tasks.”

“That was my intention,” I admitted.

“Would it persuade you if I said they happen to have the best french fries in the world?” the head of finance said, smiling at me. “I know I’d love to get a chance to chat with you, so I hope you can make it.”

Most of my team at Faceframe had gone out for drinks once or twice a month. It went a long way for morale to be with the crew outside the confines of the office, so I knew the benefit of meeting up after work.

Plus, this would give me the chance to see how everyone acted in an environment that was even more relaxed than this one.

Even Easton,oh God.

The last thing I needed was to find myself a few glasses of wine deep, loose-lipped and confessing just how attractive I found him, that I’d been fantasizing about his mouth since the moment we’d met.

That would be disastrous.

“What do you say?” Holden pressed. “Are you in?”

I couldn’t say no.

I didn’t have it in me.

“Yes.” I smiled. “I’m in.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Easton

We hadn’t been seated in the bar for more than a minute when a waitress approached our table, her eyes on Drake as she asked, “What can I get you to drink?”

“Sauvignon blanc,” Drake replied.

“No rum and diet?” I asked from the seat next to her.

Drake laughed at me. “That’s only elevator talk. Bar talk, I’m a beer-and-wine girl.”

“And for you?” the waitress said to me.

“I’m not a beer-and-wine girl.” I winked at Drake and requested vodka on the rocks from the waitress.

I couldn’t say it was a coincidence that I was sitting next to her, that there just happened to be an empty spot beside her. My move, when we’d arrived at the bar, had been far more strategic than that.

I just needed to be around her.

I needed to be closer.

Because never in all my life had I seen a woman as gorgeous, intelligent, and charismatic as Drake Madden.

She was the type who didn’t need makeup; there was a natural, warm glow that came over her face, lighting her rich, mocha-coloredeyes, emphasizing her lips, a thick pout that I couldn’t stop staring at, that made my body burn every time it parted.

Individually, her qualities were mesmerizing.

As a whole, she was perfection.

Dark, coffee-colored hair that I wanted to wrap around my wrist and pull, elongating her neck, which I’d been dying to smell since the very first day, when her coconut perfume had taunted me. An hourglass figure with curves and dips that I wanted to run my hands over.

That I wanted to take my time devouring.

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