Indian restaurants.”
“Maybe I can cook it for you one day?” The glint in his eyes alerted her to the incoming zinger as he leaned in close. “It’s an excellent breakfast dish too.”
Harper laughed so loud nearby patrons turned to stare. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Why? The thought of the two of us spending a night together to indulge in some wild debauchery surprises you?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and she laughed again. “Because quite frankly, with the chemistry between us, it’s inevitable.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, patting his arm, realizing her mistake a second too late. In trying to be funny and condescending, she’d copped a feel of a very nice bicep.
“Haven’t you heard? Assistants fall for their bosses all the time.”
“And haven’t you heard, that’s a harassment case just waiting to happen.”
“Lucky for you then, as of tomorrow evening I won’t be your assistant anymore and you’ll be free to take advantage of me as much as you want.”
She’d always been a sucker for a sense of humor, one thing most of her previous boyfriends had been lacking, so it stood to reason she found his wit attractive—along with the rest of him. They grinned at each other and as their gazes locked, something indefinable, something altogether scary, arced between them.
“Thanks for the drink.” She downed the rest of her mojito and placed the glass back on its coaster, annoyed by a momentary flicker of regret. She had a job to do, but for the last twenty minutes, having a drink with Manny, enjoying their sparring, she wondered what it would be like to date a guy like him for real. “But I really do need to prep for tomorrow. Meet you in the function room at ten?”
“I’ll be there,” he said, a hint of regret in his tone. “Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“There’ll be plenty of time for you to take advantage of me tomorrow night when the job’s a wrap.”
The thought sent excitement skittering through her, and before she could react, he placed a far too chaste kiss on her cheek. “Sleep well.”
Her cheek tingled where his lips had touched her skin, and she managed to say, “I will,” before she bolted for the sanctity of her room, where she knew thoughts of Manny would ensure sleep would elude her.
16
“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” Harper said, collapsing into the nearest chair and blowing out a breath. “I really do owe you.”
“I fully intend on calling in that favor sometime soon.” Manny poured a glass of water and held it out to her. “But for now, I’m dehydrated, exhausted, and I’m sure being on my feet all day has given me cankles.”
He rotated an ankle for emphasis, and she laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with your ankles. Stop being a sook.”
He pouted in mock hurt. “I’m sure they’re swollen.”
She rolled her eyes, their sparkle telling him she’d moved from tolerating his antics to enjoying their sparring.
It had been one hell of a day, with Harper snapping orders at him like she had yesterday but at a rapid rate considering they’d only had six hours to style three fancy dishes and the photographer had another job to go to. While he’d joked about his ankles, his feet did hurt, something that hadn’t happened since his early stint as an intern, when he’d had to get used to being on his feet and rushing between wards for eight hours, sometimes longer.
His back ached too as he settled into a chair beside her, feeling every one of his forty years. He worked out when he could squeeze a visit to the gym between his hospital shifts and maintained his fitness, so feeling this blah surprised him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, but what gave away my agony?”
She smiled and pulled a face. “The exaggerated wince as you sat down.”
“I’m old. Don’t mock me.”
She snorted. “What are you, thirty-three?”
“It’s rude to ask a gentleman’s age.” He waggled a finger at her, the simple gesture making his shoulder twinge. He really needed to make it to the gym more often if lifting a few heavy platters, albeit all day, made him this achy. “But thanks for the compliment. I’m forty.”
Her hand flew to her mouth in mock surprise. “Forty? Wow, you’re ancient.”
“And feeling it.” He shifted in the chair and grimaced as his back spasmed. “In fact, I’ve just thought of a way you can pay me back for my slave labor.”
“How?”
“A full-body massage.”
“Dream on.”
“Already been doing plenty of that, sweetheart, and you’re front and center in