Page 51 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

"I really do have to go." She pulls back, lips swollen, eyes bright. "Unless you want to explain to Regina why her daughter's emotional support camels are freaking out?”

"That's not a sentence I ever expected to hear."

"Welcome to my world." She straightens her dress, but makes no move to leave my lap. “You're handling it better than most."

"I'm handling you just fine."

Her eyes darken. "There’s that ‘charm’ again.”

“Admit it. You’re fond of my charm.”

“Or maybe I’m just fond of you,” she says softly.

And there it is.

The truth we've both been dancing around.

"Ariana..."

"I know." She finally slides off my lap. "We can't. The IPO, the marriage thing, the?—"

I catch her hand. "Have dinner with me."

"What?"

“Next week.” I snort. “I know. That’s not exactly soon, but the rest of my week is full of meetings. And I’m sure you have enough on your plate to handle, too.”

She groans. “God, I wish that weren’t true.”

“Right. But next week…” I swallow thickly, tempted to run a thumb across her lower lip. “No investors, no crisis, no Elvis memorabilia. No working so hard to keep Vegas under wraps.” I bring her fingers to my lips. "Just…a meal. Without either of us rushing to put a band-aid over some crisis.”

She hesitates. "Connor..."

"Say yes."

A smile tugs at her mouth. "What happened to maintaining professional distance?"

“I’m thinking an inch or two could qualify.”

Her laugh is worth every investor I’ve neglected tonight. "Well, when you put it that way..."

Another text lights up her phone.

"Go." I release her hand. "Before Seattle's coffee supply is permanently compromised."

She gathers her things, then pauses at the door. "Connor?"

"Yes?"

"That verse about file management?"

"What about it?"

"It was kind of hot."

She's gone before I can respond, leaving nothing but the ghost of her perfume.

13

---