Heavenly.
"Love."
"I'm sorry?"
He was mentally undressing her and outfitting her with a whole slew of provocative ensembles. For his eyes only of course. Nurses uniforms. Black lace stockings. The list went on and on.
"Don't call me 'love.'"
He tore his gaze from her thighs to her face.
"Well, we're off to a splendid start."
"Mr. Falcon, please I'm serious. I have a job to do here. It's important that people respect me. That starts with you."
He felt a flash of guilt. He had made her out to sound like a bit of a tart. He couldn't help it though. He wanted her to be a tart.
He wanted her to be his tart .
"Right. That sound fair. But no one's here right now are they buttercup?"
She rolled her eyes. He was deliberately baiting her to see what she'd come up wit next.
"Honestly, what would you do if I called you honey dumpling or something?"
"Honey dumpling?"
He started laughing. That was the silliest thing he'd ever heard. She stared at him for a moment before a smile crept over her face. He'd never really seen her smile.
Jesus, she was even more beautiful than he'd thought. It wasn't just her face. It was what was inside her. It shone out of her like light a billion watt bulb.
She started laughing with him. The limo was speeding along the freeway toward LAX while the two of them slowly lost their minds to a giggling fit that simply would not stop.
"You are really-" he gasped as he tried to get enough breath to speak. " Really , bad at comebacks."
She was still laughing but his comment made her giggled uncontrollably again.
"It's true! I'm the worst. I never once won a fight in grammar school."
The laughter dried up in his chest. He found himself staring into those deep indigo eyes.
"No love you're not the worst. You're the best."
She stopped laughing abruptly. She swallowed and stared into his eyes. She looked away after just a brief moment. But he'd almost seen something in her eyes-
"All the same Mr. Falcon. It's a bad habit to get into."
He leaned forward and gave her his most serious face.
"Alright love, I'll make you a deal."
She cocked her head to the side, listening.
"I won't call you 'sugar britches' or any nicknames until you give me permission."
She was holding back another giggle at his mention of sugar britches, just as he'd hoped.
"As long as you stop calling me Mr. Falcon."
She sighed deeply, as if expecting some sort of a trick. Little did she know.
"What do you want me to call you?"
"Dumpling butter of course."
She gave him a disapproving look. He held up his hands in surrender.
"I'll call you Sabrina and you call me Nick."
"Alright."
"Do we have a deal?"
She nodded, clearly relieved. He felt like all kinds of a heel all of the sudden. He was manipulating her to get what he wanted. He was using any means necessary to get around her healthy distrust of him.
"Deal."
"Let's shake on
"Love."
"I'm sorry?"
He was mentally undressing her and outfitting her with a whole slew of provocative ensembles. For his eyes only of course. Nurses uniforms. Black lace stockings. The list went on and on.
"Don't call me 'love.'"
He tore his gaze from her thighs to her face.
"Well, we're off to a splendid start."
"Mr. Falcon, please I'm serious. I have a job to do here. It's important that people respect me. That starts with you."
He felt a flash of guilt. He had made her out to sound like a bit of a tart. He couldn't help it though. He wanted her to be a tart.
He wanted her to be his tart .
"Right. That sound fair. But no one's here right now are they buttercup?"
She rolled her eyes. He was deliberately baiting her to see what she'd come up wit next.
"Honestly, what would you do if I called you honey dumpling or something?"
"Honey dumpling?"
He started laughing. That was the silliest thing he'd ever heard. She stared at him for a moment before a smile crept over her face. He'd never really seen her smile.
Jesus, she was even more beautiful than he'd thought. It wasn't just her face. It was what was inside her. It shone out of her like light a billion watt bulb.
She started laughing with him. The limo was speeding along the freeway toward LAX while the two of them slowly lost their minds to a giggling fit that simply would not stop.
"You are really-" he gasped as he tried to get enough breath to speak. " Really , bad at comebacks."
She was still laughing but his comment made her giggled uncontrollably again.
"It's true! I'm the worst. I never once won a fight in grammar school."
The laughter dried up in his chest. He found himself staring into those deep indigo eyes.
"No love you're not the worst. You're the best."
She stopped laughing abruptly. She swallowed and stared into his eyes. She looked away after just a brief moment. But he'd almost seen something in her eyes-
"All the same Mr. Falcon. It's a bad habit to get into."
He leaned forward and gave her his most serious face.
"Alright love, I'll make you a deal."
She cocked her head to the side, listening.
"I won't call you 'sugar britches' or any nicknames until you give me permission."
She was holding back another giggle at his mention of sugar britches, just as he'd hoped.
"As long as you stop calling me Mr. Falcon."
She sighed deeply, as if expecting some sort of a trick. Little did she know.
"What do you want me to call you?"
"Dumpling butter of course."
She gave him a disapproving look. He held up his hands in surrender.
"I'll call you Sabrina and you call me Nick."
"Alright."
"Do we have a deal?"
She nodded, clearly relieved. He felt like all kinds of a heel all of the sudden. He was manipulating her to get what he wanted. He was using any means necessary to get around her healthy distrust of him.
"Deal."
"Let's shake on
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