CHAPTER88
Well, that’s a revelation, and it’s kind of sweet. I grin at him, stupidly pleased with his answer for no reason.
“Someone smart and normal?” I gush with surprise.
“Pretty much.” For once he doesn’t add a flirty comment, finally being serious. I figure so many women in the world would squeal over this tidbit of information right now, giving hope to the millions of adoring women.
“Someone like me?” I laugh, overcome with hesitation and a touch of nerves.
“I already told you, bambina; confess how crazy you are for me and I’ll marry you before dawn. We both know you’ve the serious hots for your sexy boss.” His face is nothing but sheer jest and smiles. I shake my head, eyes rolling at his usual annoying self, and sigh all at the same time.
“You’re infuriating,” I scold gently.
“That’s why you’re crazy in love with me, shorty. Drink?” he asks as he leads me to the table, but I shake my head; I guess he’s signaling the end of conversation, something we’re both good at. He’s obviously done with this direction of prodding.
“Maybe best if I don’t,” I giggle, still not fully recovered. He studies me for a second then shrugs.
“One won’t hurt. Live a little,” he encourages.
“I think you like getting me drunk, Jake.”
“I like loosening you up, starchy pants. Makes it easier to get you naked.” He winks at me as that devilish smile reappears; a nearby waitress gawps at what she overheard and moves away fast. I can only sigh and raise a brow at him.
“You pay me to keep my pants starched remember. And on! If I were Miss Loose-and-Lively, I would be a shitty PA.” We move toward an empty table amidst my disapproving scolding.
“I don’t know; might be fun having a drunk PA. A naked one would be even better. I’d love to see you endure a stuffy meeting drunk. Not sure I would let others see you naked though,” he shrugs again, pulling out my chair and seating me at the table. He gestures for another waiter, seeing as our server has taken off.
“I probably wouldn’t be a hit, naked or not, especially with the stuffed shirts you have meetings with.”
“I can agree with that.” He’s smiling and hands me a champagne glass from a passing tray. “I like drunk Emma; might ask her to be my temporary girlfriend. You know, like anytime we’re both drunk then we’re in a relationship.” Despite my earlier protest, I take the glass, throwing him an indulgent look and fighting the urge to grin.
“So you’ve mentioned many times before.” I’m feeling edgy in his persistence tonight, and I don’t like where this is heading. He’s all jokes and fun tonight.
“I’d like to see you really let go, Emma.” He watches me carefully as though examining something under a microscope.
“In what way?” I’m not sure I like that look on his face.
“No work, just chilled and loose and free to have a good time.”
“I work for you, remember? If I’m around you, then it’s usually a good sign that I’m meant to be working.” I raise my eyebrows at him and sip my champagne, seeing his look of approval at my ‘living a little’, and sigh.
“Maybe I need to take you on vacation then.” That annoying spark of determination flits across his face. His body slides down in the chair, a la casual Carrero posture, and my heart sinks.
“This again?” My gut tightens and my mood dwindles.
“We go away together a lot, but maybe we both need a trip for pleasure? Lots and lots of pleasure.” He’s off in negotiation mode, and I grit my teeth.
“Jake …?” I warn, frowning to tell him not to continue.
“Listen to me. After Chicago, and everything that went on, please, we both need this. It’ll only be for two weeks, Emma. You’ll have your own room; no hanky-panky, I swear. I will be the ultimate gentleman. My dad’s yacht, the Caribbean, just picture it.” It’s almost childish begging from a moody boy.
“I agree, Jake, but it’s still not right to take me on some romantic getaway,” I try to refuse and ignore the sense of guilt at making him look this way.
“Is that the issue? You think a yacht and a tropical beach is too romantic? Worried I may make good on some of my promises?” An edge to his tone indicates he’s getting annoyed with me; he’s disappointed and he is not used to the word ‘no’.
Why am I so reluctant?
“No, it’s just …”"
