His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,12

a text from Sandra Brewer. WTF does your assistant need to know my bra size for?

He smiled to himself. James was nothing if not thorough, and probably oblivious of how intimate the question was. “Hey, James,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” James replied, eager to be of service.

“When you find out Sam’s bra size, can you let me know? I uh, want to surprise her with something for the anniversary of the day we met.”

“That’s so sweet, sir! Of course I will. But wouldn’t it be easy for you to just peek in her dresser?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

6

Sam

Sam shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The plush, velvet lining of the intimate booth at the Old Ebbitt Grill did nothing to soothe her nerves. The Victorian-era saloon was draped in swankiness. Even though the sun had barely set, already couples were tucked away in their own little worlds, making out. Single men in suits that cost more than her rent circled like birds of prey.

She’d gone over their brief phone calls and texts but couldn’t figure out why he wanted to meet with her now. Sam had the schedule, she’d carved out the majority of her time for him to bullshit with his pompous clients. What else could he want?

All she’d received was a text with the time and place. Thank God I looked up the place. She’d been about to show up in her work clothes, but after she read the reviews she’d rushed home and changed into a slinky silk red dress. I have to say, I fit in perfectly.

Finally, she saw him sweep into the room and head straight to the bar. Somehow, Connor had a way of filling up a venue with his presence. Women’s heads twirled to watch him—some of them pulled away from their boyfriends and husbands to do so.

She felt her heart hammer. When he turned and smiled at her, it went out of control. He’s ridiculously handsome. Way too handsome to be faking a marriage. It just doesn’t make sense. Unless… maybe he’s gay. Or dating somebody who’s way taboo.

Sam bit her lip and watched him maneuver through the crowd. One of the women’s boyfriends got upset and tapped her shoulder to peel her eyes off of Connor.

“Hey,” Connor said. “I thought you’d be at the bar.” A waitress already rushed toward them. The same waitress Sam had watched for the past ten minutes in hopes that she’d come and refresh her drink.

“What can I get you?” the waitress asked, breathless. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Another champagne for my wife?” Connor asked as he looked at Sam’s empty flute. He stressed “wife” with a touch of meanness.

She blushed at the word and nodded.

“Actually, why don’t you make it a bottle for us to share. Perrier-Jouët Belle Epoque, if you have it.”

“Oh, I’ll check,” the waitress said, crestfallen.

“I think you just broke her heart,” Sam told him as the waitress left.

“I have a knack for that,” he said.

She frowned. The sudden meeting, the bottle of champagne. Was he planning on ending things before they really got started? She knew she shouldn’t have mouthed off so much this morning when he’d had that litany of requests.

“So, any brothers? Sisters?” Connor asked. She was surprised by the sudden interest.

“Um, a sister. Emma. But she’s away at school.”

“Does she look anything like you?” he asked. His eyes probed deep. “Sorry, never mind. Where did you really go to school?”

“Georgetown, local,” she said with a shrug. “It helped save money on room and board.”

“So you never did the whole sorority thing,” he said with a nod. “Major?”

“Math education.”

“Math? Then how the hell did you get into event planning?” he asked. The waitress arrived with the bottle and poured them both a glass. She stomped off without a word.

“Math education, it’s different. It’s, like, how to teach math,” she said. Sam lifted the flute, held his eyes and toasted.

“The question still stands.”

She shrugged. “I got burned out. Didn’t want to get my master’s in education right then, and you can’t really do much in regards to teaching with just a bachelor’s.”

“So you’re smart,” he said.

She nearly spit out the champagne. “What?”

“I’m guessing you have to have some intelligence for that degree. That’s surprising, you should lead with that more.”

“Excuse me? Lead with that?”

“Exactly. When you meet quality men, I mean.” He leaned back in the booth and surveyed her.

“If you’re referring to yourself, you and I met when I was trying to smooth over my fumbling coworker,”