Page 22 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

Then I see who's behind the desk.

"Hello, wife."

Somehow, in the harsh fluorescent lights of Vegas, I'd forgotten just how devastating he is in a proper suit. All broad shoulders and storm-cloud eyes and that hint of silver at his temples that should be illegal.

"You're not Dustin Franklin," I say carefully.

"No. I’m not.” He leans back, completely at ease. “Watching you Google him this morning on the lobby security cameras was entertaining, though.”

"You're...You're Ryland Reeves."

"Ryland Connor Reeves, actually. Though most people call me Connor."

"Most people aren't accidentally married to you."

"True." He gestures to a chair. "Coffee? Though perhaps something less questionable than that overpriced place you visited this morning?"

I stay standing. "You knew. This whole time, you knew who I was."

"To be fair, I didn't know you were interviewing until after Vegas." He has the grace to look slightly sheepish. “It was all a coincidence. A pretty delightful one, if you ask me.”

“I’m sure.” I’m proud that my voice stays steady as my gaze wanders over the room’s gigantic windows. "Nice view."

His mouth quirks up. "The skyline's not bad either."

"I meant?—"

"I know what you meant." His gaze goes again to the chair. “Maybe I should have ordered the pancakes to set the mood. You seem anxious.”

"Tempting," I say, settling into the chair. "But I think we both know you have a questionable understanding of appropriate chocolate chip ratios."

His gray eyes glint. "I only accept perfection. And I did win that argument."

"You wore down the chef through sheer stubbornness."

"Same skill set , different application." He leans over handing me a steaming mug, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Speaking of applications, I want to hire you."

I nearly drop the coffee he just placed into my hands. "What?"

"I want to hire you." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like he hasn't just upended everything I expected from this meeting. "Double whatever Drake PR was paying, plus benefits. You can keep any clients you want to bring over."

I blink at him. "This is a joke, right? If it is, it isn’t funny.”

"This isn't funny."

"No?" He stands, moving around the desk. "Because from where I'm standing, the universe has an excellent sense of humor. PR executive accidentally marries tech CEO right before his IPO? It's practically destiny.”

"It's a potential PR nightmare."

"Or," he steps closer, "it's an opportunity."

"For what?"

"For both of us." His voice drops lower. "You need a fresh start. I need someone who understands crisis management. And we both need to figure out what happened in Vegas."

He’s got a point. But…

"This is a terrible idea."

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