Mr. Imperfect - By Savannah Wilde Page 0,57

and help you find a man to burn the money on?”

“Potato, potatoe,” he said dismissively.

Rori couldn’t help but smile. “I’m on a roll here, Fredrik. Perhaps tomorrow?”

He clucked his tongue at her. “And tomorrow you’ll say you’ll go out next week? I don’t think so, honey. We’re leaving in an hour, so get ready.”

Rori opened her mouth to retort when Fredrik cut her off.

“Don’t even try it, sweetie. You can’t create an exhibit about ‘connecting’ by staying in every night. You do it by going out and connecting.”

It was hard to argue with that logic.

“And speaking of connecting, girl, when was the last time you—” His hands made a suggestive gesture. “Connected?”

Rori rolled her eyes. “None of your business.”

“That long, hmm?”

Yes, that long, but she didn’t need to give him specifics. “I’ve been busy.”

“Girl, there’s no such thing as being too busy to share a bed at bed time.”

That got a laugh out of her. “Oh, Freddy. If only it were that uncomplicated.”

“It can be if you let it,” he flirted back before giving her arm a light tap. “How long? Seriously. I need to know what I’m working with here.”

“How about I just let you assume whatever you like, and we drop the subject?”

“It’s not that easy, my pretty.”

Rori was about to reply that it was as easier than sharing a bed when her phone rang. Sweet escape. “I need to get this,” she announced before picking up the phone and seeing she’d just gone from bad to worse.

“Yeah?” Fredrik teased. “Who is it?”

Rori hesitated, wanting to reject the call. But no, she should answer. “It’s your boy crush,” she said. “Can you give me a minute?”

His face lit up. “Oh, by all means! But I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Understood,” she said before hitting answer and bringing the phone to her ear. “Hello, Mike.”

“Rori. Hi. Did I catch you at a good time?”

“As good as any,” Rori replied, watching Fredrik slip out her front door, somehow taking her bravado with him. Why was her heart pounding like she was in a race? “I have a few minutes.”

“Oh, good. I’ll try not to take much of your time then. I just had a few logistical questions about September that you may or may not have the answer to. I’m already booked through those dates, so I need to figure what days I need to arrange backups for.”

There was something oddly clinical about his voice. Something… professional. And while appropriate for the conversation at hand, it also irked a bit, considering Rori’s palms were sweating.

“By all means, don’t cancel any of your appointments on my behalf—”

“Oh, I’m happy to,” he said over her. “Trust me. A guy can only do so many weddings before he goes into a coma. New York will be a welcome change of pace. I just need to know how many days I should be there.”

Again, no hint of anything personal in his voice. Nothing that said, Do you remember the heat you and I shared without even touching? I do. How many nights do you want me in your bed when I come? “The day of the event should be fine, I think.”

“Actually, I thought it would be fun to capture the take down of the existing exhibit and film yours going up. It would make some nice B-roll.”

B-roll? Rori didn’t even know what that was, and she wasn’t really in the mood to ask either. “Well, I would need to ask Fredrik about that, but I believe that have the hall closed for the three days before the exhibit. So sometime in that time frame, I would assume.”

“Okay, so I should fly in Tuesday night and out on Sunday?”

“I’m sure that would be more than adequate.”

“Perfect. I’ll pencil that in then, and let you go. I’m sure I interrupted something.”

Rori looked at her wall, and more specifically, the picture of Mike sitting on the floor with the little flower girl. “Just trying to plan out my show. Figuring out what existing pieces I can bring in and what I need to create.”

“Say no more,” he chuckled. “I totally understand and I’ll let you get to it. Thanks for sparing a minute.”

A minute, indeed. Almost to the second. “Not at all,” she said and seconds later he was gone.

What the hell was that? Not even a How are you? No questions about what her show would be about or even a passing mention of, well, anything? True, she dreaded making small

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