The What If Guy - Lauren Blakely Page 0,68

their meeting and head for my office. Later—after an editorial meeting-long span of time—there’s a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say, and the person I most want to see enters.

I go to the door and shut it, then face Bryn with a well, I’m waiting look.

“So, don’t know if you heard the news,” she says, flopping onto my couch wearing a knowing grin.

“Gee, what news would that be?” I ask, sitting next to her.

She sighs happily. “I hope you’re not annoyed, but I had a revelation this morning about what I wanted, and I had to do it this way.”

I dispel any notion that I am or could be annoyed with a quick shake of my head. “Not in the least. I completely understand.”

“Thank you. I’m excited about this.”

“As you should be. And what you did, it was . . . hot.”

She laughs then gives me an is that so look. “Really?”

I nod, running my gaze along her legs, up her waist to her breasts, and then letting it settle on those gorgeous green eyes. “So hot. Watching you just lay down the law. Make those decisions. Go full lady boss.”

“Glad you liked it.”

“I liked it because it says you know yourself. You know how to go after what you want.” I set a hand on her knee, embracing the freedom to touch her like this. “But also because I know what it means when you spend all your days making decisions.”

“What does it mean, Logan?” she asks, all sensual and husky.

“It means you’ll want me to pull your hair, swat your ass, and talk dirty to you as I bend you over and take you.”

She shivers. “You know me so well.”

I lean in close and dust a kiss on her neck. “I do.” Then I pull back, clearing my throat, going serious. “I’ll miss having you here. You’re a huge asset to this site. But I also understand why you made the choice, and I think it’s perfect for you. I also might have a client for you.”

Her brow knits. “You might?”

I grin, pleased with the unexpected gift up my sleeve. “Casey Sullivan called me this morning about you. She was quite impressed with you last night.”

Bryn squeaks. “She was?”

“Indeed. She wanted to steal you away from me.”

Her jaw drops, and her lips curve into a wild grin. “Are you serious?”

I pout. “You’re leaving me for her? So sad.”

She swats my thigh. “Tell me what she said.”

“She wants to hire you to handle content partnerships. She called and said she thought you’d be incredible. I said, ‘I know.’ She wanted to know if you’d be interested and how I felt about it, and I said she should make you an offer. That it was up to you, but that I’d never stand in the way. So, it’s your choice. All of it is always your choice.”

“Wow,” Bryn says, taking her time with that word, like she’s letting the news sink in.

“And now I guess you’ll have to tell Casey you’d be interested in perhaps working with her on a contract basis for your new firm. She’d be a helluva flagship client.”

Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “That must be why she called earlier. I have a voicemail from her. And I suppose I should negotiate my way into making her a client.”

“I have every faith in the world that you’ll do just that.”

“And when I make that decision, you’ll help me so I don’t have to make others?” she asks with a wiggle of her brow.

I haul her in for a kiss. “I will gladly do that.”

Then, as a promise, I squeeze her ass hard.

35

Bryn

I arrive first.

I pick a table in the middle.

Then I decide the back is better.

Or is closer to the front ideal?

Gah. I don’t know.

Nerves trip through me, like little girls traipsing in too-big shoes.

I grab my phone and turn the camera to selfie mode, checking to make sure I don’t have anything stuck on my face, or between my teeth. I want to look good for Amelia.

I’m wearing jeans, Converse sneakers, and a red top. My makeup is light—just mascara and blush.

I have pictures of my cat to show her.

At three on the dot on Saturday, the man I’m crazy for comes into view outside the window of Peace of Cake. My heart thumps madly, hammering against my chest. He’s so sexy, so suit-y. But right now, he’s so single daddy.

And that’s even hotter.

He wears Vans, jeans, and a Henley, and he’s laughing, holding the