His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,16

will happen.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “I mean, it’s not like I have any context to compare this gig with. Let’s see how it goes.”

“Great,” he said. She was a trooper, that’s for sure. “As a good faith effort on my part, would you mind escorting me to my car for a moment?”

She cocked her head and looked at him curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

He took her hand and headed to the employee elevator. “Sit for a moment,” he said as they reached his car, opening the passenger door for her.

Flipping open the console, he pulled out his copy of the contract and scribbled an amendment. Should the CLIENT take advantage of CONTRACTOR at any time post-May 20, 2017, “advantage” defined by CONTRACTOR’S terms, CONTRACTOR will receive a $10,000 bonus in addition to the $25,000 agreed upon project rate, and will be immediately released from the contract and all duties herein.

“Well? What do you think?” he asked, showing her the amendment.

“I think you should have been a doctor with that handwriting,” she said. “Look, Connor, I didn’t ask for any of this. I think you’re blowing it way out of proportion.”

Maybe she was right, but he couldn’t get over that look of shame she’d had when she’d caught him staring at her chest. “I know you didn’t ask for it,” he said. “But I’m a man of my word, and I’ve always taken pride in ensuring my employees and contractors are well cared for. It’ll just make me feel better knowing you’re protected.”

She flushed, and a smile played at her lips. “Okay,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”

“Do you want to sign it now?” he asked. “I can have James deliver it to my attorneys first thing in the morning.”

“Now?” she asked. “The whole thing?”

“Unless you have doubts about the arrangement still, which I understand. I know we said we’d give it a month—”

“Now is fine,” she said, and reached for the pen. “I think we’re pretty much in this whole thing by now. What’s the point in waiting?” She signed her name in pretty, flowing lines.

“Awesome,” he said.

She laughed. “Awesome? Maybe you are a teenage boy at heart.”

“You should be so lucky. But we should get back to the party now. Who knows how many crypt keepers are just dying to fawn all over you and try to wheedle information about Trezor out of me.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’re not so bad,” she said. “Besides, by now everyone’s probably so drunk we can talk about last week’s Saturday Night Live skits and they’d swear it was the most intellectual conversation ever.”

“You’re lucky,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re not completely jaded by being surrounded by these people yet. You can still find something interesting about them.”

“Well, that’s my job,” she said with a smile.

“And apparently, you’re going to work for every penny,” he said. “Come on. I owe you a sparkling cider, I believe. You know, just in case you get knocked up sometime soon and plan to embarrass my father with a shotgun wedding.”

She groaned. “You can’t blame the poor man for hoping.”

“I wouldn’t if he actually wanted grandchildren for normal reasons. He’s just desperate to make sure his royal reign continues. You should talk to him! I’m sure you can negotiate a bonus if you make a male grandchild happen within a year of the wedding for him.”

She gave him a funny look. “Now that would be a miracle,” she said. “Kids weren’t written into that contract of yours.” She poked him in the arm, but he had a feeling she was only half kidding.

“I wasn’t being serious,” he said.

She turned and got out of the car. Connor paused, unable to take his eyes off her ass. The material hugged the round curves perfectly, and the back plunged so dangerously low he could see the two dimples above her cheeks. They nearly begged him to press his thumbs into them.

He shook his head and got out of the car. No more of this crap. You’re playing with fire.

8

Sam

She spent all day Saturday recovering from Friday’s gala—which ended up going until the wee hours of the morning. Damn Connor for suggesting these old people couldn’t party. They were raging drunk by midnight, and Connor couldn’t manage to get them out of there until past two in the morning.

Sam was sure a day of laying low on Saturday would give her enough energy for Sunday’s luncheon. However, when she woke up Sunday morning, she still needed two espressos