His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,3

were gorgeous, of course, but so svelte and fragile looking. Connor looked like he could pin her up against the wall and keep her there.

“I’m really sorry,” Jenny said to Connor. Her voice trembled. “But the order has already been placed with the florist—”

“Is something wrong?” Sam asked. “Can I help?”

“Yes, something’s wrong,” Connor said to her curtly. “And I doubt you can help, but why don’t you give it a go? My fiancée cheated on me, so this five-thousand-dollar deposit I put down on this godforsaken wedding needs to be charged to my ex and her family.”

“Oh,” Sam said. Her mouth snapped shut. She hadn’t expected this.

“I tried to tell him—” Jenny started.

Sam brushed her away. “I’ll take care of this,” she said. “Hi, my name’s Sam. We met briefly during your consultation.” She reached out and shook Connor’s hand. It was huge and callused on the palms from weightlifting. She swallowed hard.

“I’m not trying to be rude here, but I don’t have time for these niceties,” he said. “All I want is this mess to be over with and to not get stuck with thousands of dollars worth of flowers and cake.” He looked down at her, and his steely blue eyes bored through her.

“I, I understand,” she stammered.

“Do you? Are you married, engaged?” he asked.

“Well, no—”

“Then how in the hell can you understand?” he asked.

Her face burned. “I’ve been cheated on before,” she murmured. She felt the eyes of her colleagues shoot toward her, even as they pretended to be hard at work at their desks.

“We’ve all been cheated on,” he said. “It’s a little different when your credit card is involved, and you just walked in on your fiancée with some guy’s dick in her mouth.”

From behind Connor’s shoulder, Jenny watched and her eyes bugged out.

“I, um, I guess you’re right,” Sam said. “Look, let me go talk to my boss for just a moment. Why don’t you come wait in my office, and I’ll smooth things over?” As she led him toward her glass enclosure, she could swear she felt his eyes on her ass. She couldn’t help but put a little extra swing in her hips.

“This you?” he asked, looking around her sleek office with a view of the Pentagon. “Fancy.”

She blushed. “I’ll be right back. Help yourself to some water if you’d like.”

Sam hustled toward her boss’ office at the other end of the building. “He’s hot!” Jenny said as she flew by.

She knocked at the door. “What do you need?” Mrs. Whiteworth called from the other side.

“Mrs. Whiteworth, it’s Sam. I have a situation.”

“Come in.” The owner of the company sighed and put her glasses on the mahogany desk. “Yes, what disaster has struck now? Did someone’s fondant cake show up with whipped buttercream instead?”

“Um, no,” Sam said. “There’s a client here and he… well, he caught his fiancée cheating on him and he wants the deposit he put down for their wedding transferred to her and her family.”

“When was the wedding?”

“I don’t know.” Mrs. Whiteworth frowned.

“Have any of the orders been placed?”

“I don’t know.”

“It seems like there’s a lot you don’t know. And why, may I ask, don’t you know these details if you’re planning this hot little mess?”

“Well, actually, Jenny is the planner. But he was flipping out on her so I’m trying to help—”

“Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Mrs. Whiteworth said.

Sam looked down, embarrassed.

“Sometimes that’s what it takes to get the job done. I’ll have a talk with Jenny later. That girl needs to grow some balls. But given that the wedding is pretty far out and I’m in a generous mood, tell him I’ll go ahead and bill the girl. Just make sure he doesn’t leave without getting her full contact information, including address.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, looking at her boss with a smile.

“This wouldn’t happen to be the Harris account, would it?” she asked.

“Harris?”

“What was the boy’s name… oh, yes, Connor,” she said, leaning back in her plush leather chair.

“Yes, it is. Why?” Sam asked.

Mrs. Whiteworth smiled knowingly. “I might be well seasoned, sweetheart, but I’m not dead. He’s a dream, and Jenny’s apparently flailing about like some schoolgirl with a crush.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

“Oh, cut the ma’am crap and get back to Mr. Universe. Tell him he doesn’t have to worry about paying for it.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, smiling sweetly and shutting the door behind her. As she hurried back to her office, she could barely contain her excitement.

“Well?” Jenny asked her as she