Though I have fantasized about what Rika's naked body looks like.
After an hour of racking my brain, all I have to show for the effort is a pile of crumpled-up papers in the trash bin beside my desk. If I can't invent new sex toys, maybe I can at least meet another of Celeste's requirements.
I shouldn't do it. But I want to do it.
No, I don't want it. I need to do it. For the business. Not for my aching cock, but for my company.
Clearing my throat, I call out to Rika, "Miss Solberg, would you mind coming in here, please?"
She hustles into my office, halting in front of my desk. "What can I do for you, Mr. Dixon?"
"Please sit down." I gesture toward the chairs just behind her. "I need to discuss something with you."
Rika settles onto one of the chairs, shimmying her bum like she's finding the perfect position for it on the seat. Her arse looks fantastic in that skirt, and when she's sitting down, the fabric rides up enough to let me glimpse her knees. They're bloody fantastic too, and so are her smooth, sexy calves.
I stare at her legs like a brainless moron for so long that she finally speaks up.
"What did you need to discuss?" she asks.
"Oh. Yes. That." I pull my chair closer to the desk and spread my palms on it, then realize that must look odd, so I clasp my hands instead. And I clear my throat again. Twice. "The answer---the question, I mean---it, uh---"
Fuck. Why can't I speak when I'm in her presence?
In the restaurant the other day, we had a normal conversation. I need to channel the calmness I'd somehow marshaled on that day. Slow breaths. Don't look at her legs. Inhale calmly, exhale slowly. Look her in the eye, idiot.
After taking a few calming breaths, I meet her gaze. "Be my girlfriend."
She blinks once, in slow motion. Her mouth falls open. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
Wouldn't that be the worst attempt at asking a woman out? But I don't want a girlfriend, especially not one who makes me crave her so badly I can't think straight. Why did I tell her to be my girlfriend instead of asking if she'd mind doing me the favor?
"No, not a date," I tell her. "This would be a business arrangement. Celeste insists I must have a woman on my arm at public events. So it doesn't look like I'm a recluse living in a garden shed in the woods, or something to that effect."
"Yeah, that would be kind of creepy."
Does she think I'm creepy? I don't care. Maybe I do a little. No, I don't care.
She wiggles her bum again, then leans back in the chair. "You're not creepy at all, but the idea of some loner loser designing sex toys... That is kind of icky. I can see how it might not be good for sales."
I still don't understand why anyone needs to see my face or know my name, but Celeste is the expert. I've done reasonably well with my little company, but now she's about to launch it into the stratosphere like a rocket headed for Mars.
Do I want that? It seemed like a good idea when she suggested it. Today, I wish I'd never signed that contract.
"So, ah..." I fidget in my chair, though I'm positive the discomfort I feel has nothing to do with the seat. "Will you do it? Will you, um, serve as my, ah..."
"Pretend girlfriend?"
"Yes. That."
She studies me like she's considering the offer.
I fidget more. Or maybe I'm squirming. Or maybe there really is a nail poking through my seat straight into my arse.
Rika nods once and slaps her hands on her thighs. "Yes, I'll do it. What the heck? I don't have a boyfriend right now. Hanging out with a soon-to-be-billionaire could be fun."
How much fun will I be? I can barely speak a full sentence in her presence.
Before she can change her mind, I say, "Thank you, Miss Solberg. I will, of course, pay you for your time."
An entire sentence. No stammering. Miracles do happen.
"Pay me?" Her brows lift. "I already work for you."
A nervous laugh bursts out of me. "Oh, yes. Of course you do."
Rika crosses her legs, resting one hand on her raised knee. "Come to think of it, you're my boss. Isn't this a conflict of interest or an ethics violation or something?"
Bollocks. I don't want anyone to think she slept her way into this or any job. Though Celeste said she could reassign Rika if I decided to date her, there aren't any comparable positions available at Bonsoir. I checked yesterday. But I've gone too far to back out of it now, and I have no hope of finding anyone else who will take on the task of hanging on my arm, not in the timeframe Celeste gave me.
Another bloody brilliant idea occurs to me.
"I'll have to let you go," I say. "But I can find you another PA job. My brother Chance knows a lot of people in New York, so I'm sure he can help with that."
Her mouth opens, her eyes widen, and she makes a soft huffing sound. "Oh great. I get fired from the best-paying job I've ever had. How is that fair? I'd basically be doing you a favor while I get shafted."
"I'll make sure your new position pays the same or more than your current job. Chance and I will find you the perfect position." I haven't asked Chance if he'll help, and I may need to beg for it since I can't tell him why my PA needs a new job. Well, maybe I can tell him---just not the whole truth. "Since everyone will believe we're dating, they'll also understand why I need to find you a different position."
"Okay," she says slowly, like she's not quite sure about my plan. "I'm not an actress, you know. What if I can't pretend to adore you?"
"I'm sure you can." I adjust my tie, though it doesn't need adjusting, and squirm again. "We have, um, kissed. That should be all you might ever need to do in public."
Her lips tighten into a smirk. "You want me to shove my tongue in your mouth at publicity events? While you glue yourself to my body?"
I cough, splutter, and finally choke on my own saliva. Once I've stopped coughing, I tell her, "No, we won't need to do that. Simple kisses at the appropriate times will be the extent of it."
"And hanging on your arm. Looking pretty and gazing at you adoringly."
"You don't have to---I mean, it's not---" I take a breath and start over. "You don't need to adore me. Just behave like a normal woman who likes the man she's dating. That's all."
She nods. "I can pull that off, I guess."
"I'm sure you can."
Has she actually agreed to my plan? Why would she do that? It's an outrageous thing to ask of a woman.
"Are you sure," I ask, "that you really want to do this? I'll understand if it's too barmy for you to handle."
"Nope, I'm fine with it. Could be fun, going out to swanky places, eating outrageously expensive food." She twists her lips into a lopsided expression. "Except all I own is work clothes and casual stuff. Will I need to buy expensive dresses or whatever?"