Page 18 of Flirty Thirty

“If that is a euphemism, you’re going to get me in a lot of trouble.”

He laughs. “I need you to put it on for tonight.”

I perk up, feet itching to climb the flight of stairs to my office just above me. “You did not just buy an outfit you want to see me in.”

“Hmm… it’s more of a suggestion, really.”

“Just when I think you’re different than every other billionaire businessman.”

He laughs again, and my stomach soars with the sound. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I push the off button and toy with my phone, trying to get my heart to calm and my mind to stop racing. There’s not a chance I’m wearing what he sent; not only because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but I doubt it will fit. I’m definitely not a one size fits all kind of gal.

I shake my head out of it, smooth my blazer, and head into the conference room. The clock overhead ticks the first second into a very long eight hours of fluttering anticipation.

***

I pace a hole through my bedroom floor, holding my phone to my ear and yelling a very long message to Holland.

“You have exactly two minutes to call me back or else it’ll be too late!”

I click off and toss the cell onto the bed by the opened UPS box. “This is crazy,” I tell Tom who is lazily lying in the late day sun beams on my floor. “He can’t be serious.”

I pull at the fleece pajama bottoms—that surprisingly fit with the drawstring—and the graphic t-shirt that says “Cozy King.” So much for the public place, fancy restaurant guy I pegged him for. Like with every other conversation we’ve had, he skips the formality and goes right into putting me in lounge wear. I don’t care how much it smells like him, or how much it reminds me of his soft lips and scruffy chin and how, yes, my stomach cannot find a settled position just from the thought that maybe these arehisactual clothes.

My hands flop down to my sides. “No,” I say to my sleeping cat. “I’m not doing it.”

I barely get a hold of the hem to yank the shirt off my body when the doorbell rings. He’s early. He’s an early man. Why does that turn me on so much?

I untangle myself from the material and march down the stairs. I make sure it’s loud enough so he knows exactly what mood I’m in before I even open the door.

After fumbling with the lock, I swing it open and give him the best glare I can muster while simultaneously swooning at his trimmed chin and his matching pajama set.

“Explain,” I bite out.

His eyes scan down my body, his lips twitching upward at the hitched hand on my hip. When he gets back to my face, I give him a look that reiterates my previous request.

“It suits you.” He slides his hands into the soft pockets at his side. “You’ll have to give me a minute here.”

“For what, exactly?”

“To catch my breath.”

Though the words are genuine, if not a little romance movie-esk, the effect of they have on me is a tad unexpected. My skin feels on fire, burning from somewhere deep inside my chest and simmering up to the surface. I hide it with a playful, derisive snort.

“I take it we’re staying in tonight?”

He shakes his head, reaching out for my hand. “Nope.”

Electric shocks skyrocket through my midsection the moment he entwines his fingers with mine, making me fumble over my words. “Hold on. We’re goingoutin these?”

His smile deepens at my free hand pulling at the fleece. “Do you have something against sleepwear?”

“No…” I draw out, planting my feet firmly in my doorway as he starts leading me to his truck. “I just don’t make a habit of it outside of these walls.”

“I promise that where we’re going, you’ll want to be comfortable.”

“I can be comfortable in a dress.”

---