Page 4 of If I See You Again
“No problem, Fisher, but don’t make a habit of it. We’ve got an important client coming in today, and I want you to lead the project.”
That had my interest piqued.
“What type of project are we talking?” I took a sip of my coffee before dropping back into the chair at my desk. There were lots of people who worked in the office, but it didn’t change the fact that I was the best at my damn job. If the client was as big as the boss was saying, I couldn’t screw this up.
Mr. Thomas sat across from me, sipping on his own cup. “Mr. Garrison is an up-and-coming tech guru. He has a website he’s built that’s really promising. It’s designed to make purchasing large electronics easier for those who have difficulties with technology.”
I nodded as I listened to him talk. It sounded like a good idea, although I wasn’t sure about the idea of things being too easy. Sometimes, there were safeguards in place to protect people who were easily taken advantage of. “So what exactly is he looking for with us? Because I have some questions about this idea of his.”
Mr. Thomas laughed. “I’m thinking you know how to tackle this, but he’s mostly looking for someone to guide him a little better on how to hit his target demographic.”
My head was already swimming with ideas. Mostly, how to design the website to keep some safeguards while still easing access.
When I leaned back in my chair, a twinge in my ass had me straightening quickly. Last night came flashing back in a rush of dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes as the man pumped into me from above.
God, I’d needed that, but the day after was always a little precarious. It had been shitty to leave and not say anything, but I hadn’t thought either of us had any real expectations.
Instead of continuing to focus on some of the best sex I’d had in my life, I set about putting together a presentation for the new client. A notification showed up in my e-mail shortly after, alerting me that the meeting would be at three in the afternoon.Mr. Thomas attached a note stating that it would be short, as Mr. Garrison had a flight he needed to catch right after.
I could do it. Thirty minutes was more than enough time to wow this guy into giving me the contract to do his campaign for him. I just need to work my ass off for the next three hours.
“Did you even eat lunch?” Mr. Thomas asked.
I chuckled, shaking my head as we headed down the hallway toward the conference room. “Who needs to eat when there’s so much important work to be done?”
He eyed me warily as he pushed open the glass door and approached the long table surrounded by old leather chairs. The room seemed a little large for a meeting between three people, but it was where we met all our prospective clients.
“I get it, Fisher, but I can’t have you passing out on me. Not on something this important.”
Heat raced up my neck. “No worries. I have this all under control. There won’t be any passing out, and this guy will be eating out of our hands. Just watch.”
“We’ll see about that.”
My breath caught as I swung to face the doorway. The folder I’d been holding dropped to the floor, sending papers scattering everywhere. My carefully put-together presentation was now a complete waste as I stared at the man who’d just entered the room.
David.
There was no fucking way.
“Mr. Garrison. Thank you for joining us. When I heard you were in town, I had to make sure you stopped by our offices. You couldn’t go home without hearing what our team had to offer.”
My boss hadn’t even noticed that I’d just spilled said presentation all over the floor and that I was standing there staring at the man, mouth gaping like a damn fish.
“Mr. Fisher here,” Mr. Thomas prattled on, “is the best we have to offer—”
He finally stopped, catching on that I was petrified.
“Mr. Fisher?”
I shook my head, doing my best to clear my thoughts of the idea that I knew what our client looked like naked. That I knew what he sounded like when he came. Jesus. I really was a fuckup.
Instead of answering Mr. Thomas, I leaned down and started scooping up my papers, doing my best to stick them back in the folder. Shiny black oxfords stepped into my line of sight, and I closed my eyes, swallowing thickly as the familiar musky and whiskey smell of David washed over me. He kneeled next to me and started helping me with my paperwork, and my eyes widened in horror. I couldn’t give this presentation to him. Not a chance.
I dropped the folder to the ground, standing up and backing away.
“I’m—I’m so sorry, Mr. Thomas. I—I can’t do this.”
Never. Not once in the six years since I’d started working for Thomas and Braxton Advertising had I bowed out of a job. Especially when the client was present, but there wouldn’t be any working with David. That was a conflict of interest, wasn’t it? Sleeping with the client was a no-no, right?
