wrong?"
"No, nothing at all." Téa refused to be derailed by anything this time, so she hurried into the speech that she'd prepared. "I'd like to spend a few minutes acquainting you with my firm and my goals for your project. Then we can move on to your questions. Is that all right?"
He shrugged. "I have your firm's brochure. I don't think we need to go over that information again."
"Oh. Well." She hid her disappointment at losing the opportunity to speak aloud the impressive phrases she'd stockpiled. "
Fresh outlook on mid-century modern
," (never professionally designed in that style). "
Exclusive attention from the design team
," (she
was
the design team). "
The firm's calendar adjusted to work with yours
," (there was no job on her schedule as prestigious as this one). "I guess we can just go ahead with your questions, then."
There was another pause while the waiter delivered their drinks. Johnny took a swallow of his rum and Coke, then cocked an eyebrow her way. "Where were we again?"
Her wine was crisp and cold and if she wasn't careful, it would go right to her head. "I'm ready to answer any questions you might have about the project."
He waved a hand. "I trust your judgment on that. I have few worries as long as you don't go wildly over budget and don't—"
"Undersize the couches and the chairs," she finished for him.
He laughed. "Exactly. So you read minds?"
No! "No." She took another sip from her glass. "It's a common concern."
"What I would like to talk about—" He broke off as a commotion heightened the already loud level of noise in the bar. "Is that Melissa Banyon?"
Tea"a glanced over her shoulder and couldn't miss the chestnut-haired sultry sex-kitten who'd won an Academy Award for best supporting actress the previous spring. She stood at the entrance of the bar in an electric blue dress and a pair of matching stiletto sandals.
"With her just-as-famous French fiance, Raphael Fremont, in tow," she said. "They're newly engaged, and they won't be the last celebrities you spot in Palm Springs."
Johnny's eyes were all for mega-star Melissa.
Great tits, fake as forty-four dollar bills, but great to look at all the same
.
"What?" Téa said, staring at him. "What did you say?"
Johnny's gaze returned to her face and he frowned. "I didn't say anything." He raised his glass to his mouth. "Though I was about to ask about you."
"Me?" On the other side of the bar the noise rose again and she ignored it as best she could. "You said you'd looked over my firm's brochure."
"I don't want to know more about your firm, I want to know more about
you''
There was a smile in his eyes, a friendly enough smile, but all Téa's internal alarms started ringing. Every instinct told her to keep it all-business, all-the-time between them because even at that he could still knock her silly with his all-star good looks and his let-me-take-you-down-to-silk-sheets voice. "I don't think… I don't want…"
"Hey, no need to be so nervous. I'm not with the IRS."
She tried to smile. "I haven't done anything illegal." Recently.
"I only thought we might work better together if we knew each more… personally." He laughed. "Now you look as if I'm asking for your social security and Swiss bank account numbers. Téa, I assure you my intentions aren't as sinister as that."
Of course not. He didn't know sinister like she did.
And then it hit her. Hard.
The birthday party. Her grandfather's impending retirement. Meeting Johnny had pushed them both from her mind. But by the end of the month they'd be big news, and stories of the Carusos' shady activities were going to be hitting the papers again, big-time. She knew Johnny Magee wasn't the type of man who would miss the connection. What she didn't know was if he was the type of man who would overlook it, no matter how strictly law-abiding she was these days.
In the spirit of honesty and full disclosure, she thought with a sigh, she supposed she was obligated to get personal after all,
"No, nothing at all." Téa refused to be derailed by anything this time, so she hurried into the speech that she'd prepared. "I'd like to spend a few minutes acquainting you with my firm and my goals for your project. Then we can move on to your questions. Is that all right?"
He shrugged. "I have your firm's brochure. I don't think we need to go over that information again."
"Oh. Well." She hid her disappointment at losing the opportunity to speak aloud the impressive phrases she'd stockpiled. "
Fresh outlook on mid-century modern
," (never professionally designed in that style). "
Exclusive attention from the design team
," (she
was
the design team). "
The firm's calendar adjusted to work with yours
," (there was no job on her schedule as prestigious as this one). "I guess we can just go ahead with your questions, then."
There was another pause while the waiter delivered their drinks. Johnny took a swallow of his rum and Coke, then cocked an eyebrow her way. "Where were we again?"
Her wine was crisp and cold and if she wasn't careful, it would go right to her head. "I'm ready to answer any questions you might have about the project."
He waved a hand. "I trust your judgment on that. I have few worries as long as you don't go wildly over budget and don't—"
"Undersize the couches and the chairs," she finished for him.
He laughed. "Exactly. So you read minds?"
No! "No." She took another sip from her glass. "It's a common concern."
"What I would like to talk about—" He broke off as a commotion heightened the already loud level of noise in the bar. "Is that Melissa Banyon?"
Tea"a glanced over her shoulder and couldn't miss the chestnut-haired sultry sex-kitten who'd won an Academy Award for best supporting actress the previous spring. She stood at the entrance of the bar in an electric blue dress and a pair of matching stiletto sandals.
"With her just-as-famous French fiance, Raphael Fremont, in tow," she said. "They're newly engaged, and they won't be the last celebrities you spot in Palm Springs."
Johnny's eyes were all for mega-star Melissa.
Great tits, fake as forty-four dollar bills, but great to look at all the same
.
"What?" Téa said, staring at him. "What did you say?"
Johnny's gaze returned to her face and he frowned. "I didn't say anything." He raised his glass to his mouth. "Though I was about to ask about you."
"Me?" On the other side of the bar the noise rose again and she ignored it as best she could. "You said you'd looked over my firm's brochure."
"I don't want to know more about your firm, I want to know more about
you''
There was a smile in his eyes, a friendly enough smile, but all Téa's internal alarms started ringing. Every instinct told her to keep it all-business, all-the-time between them because even at that he could still knock her silly with his all-star good looks and his let-me-take-you-down-to-silk-sheets voice. "I don't think… I don't want…"
"Hey, no need to be so nervous. I'm not with the IRS."
She tried to smile. "I haven't done anything illegal." Recently.
"I only thought we might work better together if we knew each more… personally." He laughed. "Now you look as if I'm asking for your social security and Swiss bank account numbers. Téa, I assure you my intentions aren't as sinister as that."
Of course not. He didn't know sinister like she did.
And then it hit her. Hard.
The birthday party. Her grandfather's impending retirement. Meeting Johnny had pushed them both from her mind. But by the end of the month they'd be big news, and stories of the Carusos' shady activities were going to be hitting the papers again, big-time. She knew Johnny Magee wasn't the type of man who would miss the connection. What she didn't know was if he was the type of man who would overlook it, no matter how strictly law-abiding she was these days.
In the spirit of honesty and full disclosure, she thought with a sigh, she supposed she was obligated to get personal after all,
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