Clarice’s assistant or something. But she’s handling the team that’s planning and promoting the ball.”
Ben perked up, swinging his shoes back down to the floor. “Is she cute? How old is she?”
“Whoa, down boy. She’s not your type.” He tried to picture the quiet, methodical Emma dealing with Ben’s boisterous and often scattered personality and couldn’t do it.
Ben quirked a brow. “I’ll be the judge of that. Just because you don’t want to date again in this millennium doesn’t mean the rest of us are content to spend our lives alone.”
“I am not . . . ,” Josh began, but then snapped his mouth shut. Ben loved to poke fun at his love life—whether it was over a lack or an abundance—because he knew it riled Josh quickly. Josh wasn’t going to fall for it this time. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Emma is off limits. That’s all you need to know.”
Ben’s brown eyes widened. “Oh. Like that, is it? All you had to do was say, man. You know I don’t poach.”
“It’s not. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not. You’d just overwhelm the girl, is all. She’s a bit shy. Reminds me of myself in high school, and I’d hate to see her bulldozed. So back off. Got it?” Josh watched his friend, waiting for a response.
Ben studied his face in return before finally nodding. “Sure thing, man. Whatever you say.”
“Good.” Josh stood and headed for the door. “Now, you up for some tennis? I need to work off a little steam or I’m going to fly to Hollywood and strangle Arnold Purefoy with my bare hands.”
Josh could feel Ben’s gaze heavy on his back as his best friend followed him out of the room. He brushed off the look, along with the annoying feeling that he’d made an ass out of himself. He was just protecting a shy young woman, he assured himself. The fact that he found her attractive was neither here nor there.
Sure , whispered the back of his mind. You keep pretending to believe that.
Emma jumped as if she’d been stuck with a pin when the door to her office swung open. She hastily minimized the internet browser window for Mysterium-Masks.com as Clarice stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“Tell me everything is going perfectly for the Owens ball.”
Emma swallowed heavily around her heart, which was suddenly in her throat. “Um. . . .” She flushed as if she’d been caught looking at porn. “Everything is going perfectly!”
The silver-haired CEO leaned back against the closed door. “Okay, but don’t lie . Are there any problems?”
“I’m not lying. There are no problems. Or none that I can’t handle. You just caught me off guard.”
Clarice’s eyes narrowed. “Have you gotten a good response from attendees?”
Emma nodded emphatically. “Better than good. We haven’t received a single ‘no’ yet, and Padma’s phone has been ringing non-stop from assistants trying to finagle invitations for people who didn’t make the list. But we planned for that. We’ve set aside 10 invitations per week that go on a first-come-first-served basis.”
“And Mr. Owens has some set aside to use at his discretion, I presume?” Clarice asked. Emma knew her brows would be raised if not for her recent Botox injection.
“Of course. Shinae’s on top of the decorations, and Dag and Marla have all the games planned out. I’ve booked the musicians. As soon as we finish the tasting and solidify the menu, we’ll be ready to go.”
Clarice pursed her lips. “No sponsors?”
“Josh, Mr. Owens, said he’d prefer not to have swag bags.” Emma’s lips twitched. What he’d actually said was that the ‘whole damn point of charity is that you’re giving from the goodness of your heart, not because you get prizes ’. His vehemence had surprised her.
Her boss tapped bony fingers against her lips, staring hard at Emma’s face. Emma shifted
Ben perked up, swinging his shoes back down to the floor. “Is she cute? How old is she?”
“Whoa, down boy. She’s not your type.” He tried to picture the quiet, methodical Emma dealing with Ben’s boisterous and often scattered personality and couldn’t do it.
Ben quirked a brow. “I’ll be the judge of that. Just because you don’t want to date again in this millennium doesn’t mean the rest of us are content to spend our lives alone.”
“I am not . . . ,” Josh began, but then snapped his mouth shut. Ben loved to poke fun at his love life—whether it was over a lack or an abundance—because he knew it riled Josh quickly. Josh wasn’t going to fall for it this time. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Emma is off limits. That’s all you need to know.”
Ben’s brown eyes widened. “Oh. Like that, is it? All you had to do was say, man. You know I don’t poach.”
“It’s not. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not. You’d just overwhelm the girl, is all. She’s a bit shy. Reminds me of myself in high school, and I’d hate to see her bulldozed. So back off. Got it?” Josh watched his friend, waiting for a response.
Ben studied his face in return before finally nodding. “Sure thing, man. Whatever you say.”
“Good.” Josh stood and headed for the door. “Now, you up for some tennis? I need to work off a little steam or I’m going to fly to Hollywood and strangle Arnold Purefoy with my bare hands.”
Josh could feel Ben’s gaze heavy on his back as his best friend followed him out of the room. He brushed off the look, along with the annoying feeling that he’d made an ass out of himself. He was just protecting a shy young woman, he assured himself. The fact that he found her attractive was neither here nor there.
Sure , whispered the back of his mind. You keep pretending to believe that.
Emma jumped as if she’d been stuck with a pin when the door to her office swung open. She hastily minimized the internet browser window for Mysterium-Masks.com as Clarice stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“Tell me everything is going perfectly for the Owens ball.”
Emma swallowed heavily around her heart, which was suddenly in her throat. “Um. . . .” She flushed as if she’d been caught looking at porn. “Everything is going perfectly!”
The silver-haired CEO leaned back against the closed door. “Okay, but don’t lie . Are there any problems?”
“I’m not lying. There are no problems. Or none that I can’t handle. You just caught me off guard.”
Clarice’s eyes narrowed. “Have you gotten a good response from attendees?”
Emma nodded emphatically. “Better than good. We haven’t received a single ‘no’ yet, and Padma’s phone has been ringing non-stop from assistants trying to finagle invitations for people who didn’t make the list. But we planned for that. We’ve set aside 10 invitations per week that go on a first-come-first-served basis.”
“And Mr. Owens has some set aside to use at his discretion, I presume?” Clarice asked. Emma knew her brows would be raised if not for her recent Botox injection.
“Of course. Shinae’s on top of the decorations, and Dag and Marla have all the games planned out. I’ve booked the musicians. As soon as we finish the tasting and solidify the menu, we’ll be ready to go.”
Clarice pursed her lips. “No sponsors?”
“Josh, Mr. Owens, said he’d prefer not to have swag bags.” Emma’s lips twitched. What he’d actually said was that the ‘whole damn point of charity is that you’re giving from the goodness of your heart, not because you get prizes ’. His vehemence had surprised her.
Her boss tapped bony fingers against her lips, staring hard at Emma’s face. Emma shifted
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