“Oh?”
“I’m going out, remember?” I prodded. “And I’m going to drink too much, which makes me horny. Don’t forget to take your vitamins, ace.”
His lips twitched. “Well, then.”
“Oh, yeah. You’ll be lucky if you can crawl out of bed tomorrow,” I warned.
“I’ll make sure to stay hydrated, then.”
“Good idea.” I returned my attention to his tablet, but had to look when he walked his very fine ass out of the room.
When I saw him again, he was damp-haired and wearing black sweats that hung low enough on his h*ps that I knew he was commando underneath. Forcing myself to focus on my plans, I gave him the desk chair and stood next to him.
“Okay,” I began, “following the adage that the best defense is a good offense, I’ve been taking a look at your public image.”
He took a sip of his coffee.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I admonished. “I didn’t pay any attention to your personal life, since I’m your personal life.”
“Good girl.” He gave me an approving pat on my behind.
I stuck my tongue out at him. “I’m mostly thinking of how to combat a smear campaign focused on your temper.”
“It helps that I haven’t previously been known as having one,” he said dryly.
Until you met me … “I’m a terrible influence on you.”
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
That earned him a quick, smacking kiss to the temple. “It took me a ridiculous amount of time to find out about the Crossroads Foundation.”
“You didn’t know where to look.”
“Your search optimization really blows,” I countered, pulling up the website. “And there’s only this splash page, which is pretty, but ridiculously bare. Where are the links and info about the charities that have benefited? Where’s the About page on the foundation and what you hope to accomplish?”
“A packet detailing all of that information is sent out to charities, hospitals, and universities twice a year.”
“Great. Now, let me introduce you to the Internet. Why isn’t the foundation tied to you?”
“Crossroads isn’t about me, Eva.”
“The hell it isn’t.” I met his raised brows with my own and shoved a to-do list in front of him. “We’re defusing the Deanna bomb before it blows. This website needs to be overhauled by Monday morning, with the addition of these pages and the information I’ve outlined.”
Gideon took a cursory glance at the paper, then picked up his mug and leaned back in his chair. I studiously focused on the mug and not his amazing torso.
“The Cross Industries site should cross-link with the foundation from your Bio page,” I continued. “Which also needs an overhaul and updating.”
I slid another paper in front of him.
He picked it up and began reading the biography I’d drafted. “This was clearly written by someone in love with me.”
“You can’t be shy, Gideon. Sometimes you just have to be blunt and say, ‘I rock.’ There’s so much more to you than a gorgeous face, hot body, and insane sex drive. But let’s focus on the stuff I don’t mind sharing with the world.”
Flashing a grin, Gideon asked, “How much coffee have you had this morning?”
“Enough to take you to the mat, so watch out.” I bumped my hip into his arm. “I also think you should consider a press release announcing the acquisition of La Rose Noir, so that your name and Giroux’s are linked. Remind people that Corinne—who you’ve been seen around with so much lately—has a husband, so Deanna can’t paint you as a total bad guy for cutting Corinne off. If she decides to go that route.”
He caught me unawares and pulled me into his lap. “Angel, you’re killing me. I’ll do whatever you want, but you need to understand that Deanna has nothing. Ian Hager isn’t going to risk a nice settlement to publicize his story. He’ll sign the necessary releases, take the money, and go away.”