Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,16
president of the company, that was my call. The future of the company is in my hands in a way it has never been before. And if it falls through … we fail.
I fail.
I cause my family to fail.
The muscles at the back of my neck tighten.
“You’re right,” I say, working my jaw back and forth. “We have one week to convince Landry to sell to us before he puts it on the market. We have to procure this deal because it’ll change everything for our company.”
“Exactly. We stick with our plan—get the property in our name. I feel good about this, Holt. I really do.”
Because I’ve micromanaged the shit out of this for the past ten months.
“We’ve thought it over from every angle. Boone already has some bites from investors. We have a dream concept with hotels, retail space, spas. If we need Wade to put on his hippie hat to get this contract, then he’ll put on the hippie hat whether he likes it or not. We have seven days to pull this off. We can do this.”
We have to do this.
I close my eyes to work through the problem, but when I do, the only thing I see are Blaire’s bright blue eyes. I must sigh because Oliver sighs back with a hefty dose of sarcasm.
“You’re going to make me play therapist, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Absolutely not,” I say, opening my eyes. “Why would I need a therapist?”
“I don’t know. I just know since you ran into this girl at the airport, you’ve been all …”
“What?”
“Pussified.”
I stand and laugh. “I have not.”
“No, you have,” he teases. “You remind me a little of Boone when you’re all emotional like this, but that’s okay. The family has me.”
“Riiight. It’s a good thing we have you. Where would we be without your expense reports that easily double the rest of ours? Or your penchant for golfing on Fridays? Or the way we had to pay off the secretary because you—”
“Hey,” he interrupts. “First of all, my expense reports are because I actually wine and dine potential clients. Golfing on Fridays is also another work burden that you don’t bother helping me lift. And that secretary thing … Well, let’s just say that I didn’t expect her to blackmail me for giving it to her doggy style on my desk after hours, okay? Might not have been my best move.”
“That’s what she said.”
“I’m not dignifying that with a response.”
I put the call on speakerphone and begin to get dressed. My clothes smell like Blaire’s perfume—faint and floral with a dose of elegance. As I pull on my shirt, I spot a dab of her red lipstick on the collar.
My stomach twists, sending a coil of energy through my body. It nestles itself deep inside my core, and I can’t deny my desire to see her again.
“Where is Blaire now?” Oliver asks. “Not that I care. I just know that we will end up having this conversation, so we might as well get it over with.”
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“What do you mean that you’re not sure?”
I slip on my socks. “It means I don’t know where she’s at, dammit.”
Oliver’s laugh is instantaneous. It roars through the speaker and causes me to flinch.
“I didn’t have her pegged to be a one-night stand. But good for her. I like her style,” he says.
My jaw tenses as I shove my wallet and keys into my pocket. Before I head toward the door, I grab the panties and shove them in my pocket too.
“That really bothers you, doesn’t it?” he asks.
“What?”
“That she left. Total power move. She stole your thunder.”
“She didn’t steal my thunder,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And it doesn’t bother me. I kind of like it, actually.”
Even though the words come out of my mouth, I’m not sure I believe them. Not totally, anyway. It might be nice not to have to be the one to enforce a one-night stand for once, but I wouldn’t have minded a goodbye.
Hell, I might have even offered breakfast before going our separate ways.
When I think of Blaire, I’m heated. Energized. Itching to have a conversation with the woman who intrigues me mentally as well as physically.
But she’s gone. While that might make things less interesting this morning, it keeps it a clean break. There’s a beauty in that.
Still …
“She did leave her credit card,” I say. “I need to figure out how to get it back to her.”
“Um, call her?”
“Would you believe that I don’t