Page 15 of Kiss and Tell
How was I going to pull this off? I barely knew the guy. How would I know what felt like home to him?
I supposed that was why I’d suggested we get to know each other. It was easier to get into a client’s head when we connected on a personal level.
And I had a feeling Connor wouldn’t at all mind getting up close and personal with me.
A flush threatened to rise to my cheeks.
From the way he’d flirted with me at the bar, I had no doubt he half-expected me to fall for him then and there.
I remembered the way he'd leaned in close, remembered his warm, masculine scent filling my nose. Just the thought of it made my heart beat faster.
Connor was attractive, effortlessly sexy. He knew it, too. His flirtations were at once charming and maddening. I couldn’t deny some part of me was tempted. But the last thing I needed was a distraction from my work, especially when that distraction was the person I was workingwith.
I’d vowed to never make that mistake again.
I went back to scrutinizing my board. Despite all the brainstorming I’d done over the last week, nothing was standing out to me. I didn’t have a single concrete idea for what to do with his bar. Why couldn’t he have simply wanted a sports bar or some hipster cafe? That would have been easy. No, this guy wanted something more complicated. Something more meaningful. Something that felt like home.
I had to wonder where that desire came from. Did he not feel like he had a home?
I chewed on that thought, trying to remember what else he had told me about himself.
He was the younger brother of the owner of the sketchy bar, Walt. He’d agreed to take over the opening of the new bar. He’d never owned a place like this before.
I remembered something else.
Connor used to be a musician. That was why this bar owner stuff was new to him. He’d been in a few bands, probably none I’d ever heard of, he’d said. He also mentioned something about—
“You’ve got a new client, I see.”
My thoughts screeched to a halt. A chill ran down my back at the voice speaking up behind me. I folded my arms across my chest defensively.
In the doorway stood a man in a grey business suit, his brown hair slicked down and away from his forehead with gel. The exact opposite of Connor’s artfully messy head of hair. It was Peter, one of my colleagues.
Or as he would have put it, my boss.
When I’d first started at the company, Courtice and Cooke, I’d considered him a colleague. Then he’d become something of a work friend.
And then he’d become more than a friend.
That was when everything fell apart.
After a few promotions, Peter was now much higher up than me on the corporate ladder. He was in a different department, though. He wasn’t really my boss. He had no official, direct say over me.
Not that it stopped him.
“I thought you were working with Hanover on that restaurant,” Peter said.
“We finished that,” I said tightly. “I’ve got my own new client now.”
“A solo assignment?” he asked. “You sure you’re ready for that?”
I clenched my jaw to prevent myself from snapping at him.
“I’ve already met with the client,” I told him.
Peter raised an eyebrow toward my cork board.
“And things are going well?” he asked.
