I shake my head and give her a horrified look. “There’s no way I’m putting cayenne on my eye. Are you trying to blind me?” I take the papers from her hands and place them to the side. “Will you order a new espresso machine for the lobby?”
She raises a brow. “Espresso...la-ti-da. Coffee not good enough?”
“We need one that does everything. Our customers like to be pampered.” I glance out the glass wall to see my sales team waiting to sell the next Mercedes or Porsche.
Aggie rolls her eyes. “Heard from your parents this week?”
“Mom says they’ll be back in a week. I think they love Florida. I wouldn’t be surprised if they make a permanent move.”
“Good, good. I’m so glad for them. Tell your mom to take some hunky men photos and email me. I like seeing those shirtless studs all oily with lotion.”
“Too much information,” I mutter under my breath. Plus, my mother would be praying for Aggie’s soul if I told her that. I grab a pen and quickly sign at the bottom of the contract before me.
My stomach growls and I glance at the clock. Almost time to lock up. I worked through lunch so I could catch up. The side trip to take Emerson to her car has set me behind for the rest of the day. Way behind, but worth every second.
Aggie takes the piece of paper from me but doesn’t leave. “You work too hard.”
“That’s how people get ahead.”
She points at me. “You’ll wake up one day and be sorry that you spent all your time at this desk. When was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”
“I thought you were my girl.”
She shakes her head at my flirting. “You’re too young to bury yourself in work. I know your father did it, but at least he finally came to his senses this year. He’s lucky your mother didn’t leave him.”
“Aggie. You’re exaggerating, don’t you think?” I glance at the glass wall to my right and watch Serena Esteban in her stilettos en route to the exit. Her walk reminds me of Emerson’s, all swing and proposition. Except Serena glances around to see who’s watching while Emerson is oblivious.
Maybe Aggie has a point. I need to get Emerson out of my head. Maybe I should be leaving with Serena, who has quite the party-girl reputation.
“You have no clue what’s important in life.” She steps in front of my line of vision, effectively bringing my attention back to her. “Get your eyes off that one. She’s not for you. Not the right kind of girl.”
I smirk at the way she’s read my mind. “You think? She’s absolutely my type.”
“I don’t care about your type. Rich beach boys are my type, but a roll in the sand isn’t going to make me happy in the long run.”
Even though Serena is long gone, I gaze longingly at the exit. “But think how fun it’d be in the meantime.”
“Not really.” She reaches across to a crystal dish and takes one of the candies that she carried in earlier. “You’d just get sand in your crack.” She unwraps the candy and pops it into her mouth.
“A little sand never hurt anyone. Sometimes it’s nice to get dirty.” I put a suggestive drawl into my words, but she looks unconvinced.
“There’s naughty and there’s dirty. You don’t want to go there. Too unclean.” Aggie wrinkles her nose. She turns and carries the paperwork to the glass door. “Surely there’s some nice girl out there who revs your engine. Your parents would love to see you as happy as they are.”
All this talk has taken my brain in a direction I’ve attempted to avoid all day. Also, I’d rather not talk about sex and my parents in the same conversation. I clear my throat. “Thanks for your concern, but it’s misplaced. I’m very happy.”
“Tomcat,” she says as she shakes her head and leaves my office.
My routine is to work until seven, grab a bite to eat, and head home. I straighten my desk and spot the check to Emerson that I wrote earlier. There’s a chance I can catch her at home if I drop by with it. I argue with myself that I’m only trying to be thoughtful and get it to her as quickly as possible, but I know it’s a lie. The girl has been on my mind all day long.
I grab the check and place it in my wallet. My office manager glances at the wall clock as I walk by and gives me an odd look. He lifts a hand to wave. Does everyone in this place keep tabs on when I come and go?
A gust of chilly air circles me as I pick up the pace to my car. I drag my fingers through my hair and loosen my tie. Five-thirty. Maybe I’ll mention dinner. There’s no sense in eating alone when we can eat together.
In no time at all, I’m at her run-down apartment complex. Some people stand around outside as if they have nothing else to do and I scowl at a crowd of teenage boys standing near a dumpster, skateboards in their hands. Two of the kids are shoving each other while the others watch.
By the time I make it to her door, I’m pissed off that she’s living in a place that probably rates one of the highest crime rates in the city. I rap on the door twice. There’s a lady across the lot in the opposite building who stands in front of her door watching me. Was she there when I was here earlier? She gives me a nod of recognition in answer to my internal question.
The door opens wide and Emerson stands there with a confused look. “Hey. What’s up?”
“What are you doing opening your door without asking who it is?” My voice is tense.
“Peephole.” She cuts her gaze to the open door. “I knew it was you.”
“Hmm.” I take a step. “Are you going to ask me in?”
“Depends on the reason for your visit. Did you come to scold me about something else?”
“No.” A corner of my mouth tugs up. “I brought you a check. The money you gave the bondsman. You also ran off before I could put your spare tire in your car.”
“Ah,” she says and moves aside. “In that case, come in.”
“Thanks.” As I walk inside, I notice again how neat her place is. A candle flickers from the end table and there’s a book open and face down beside it.
“Check?” Emerson holds out her hand. Silver bracelets clink together on her wrist and I lift my gaze to her face.
“Are you busy?”
She shrugs. “Not really.” Her hand drops as if she realizes she’s being rude.
I examine what she’s wearing. Emerson always has on jeans and T-shirts when she comes to clean our place. I don’t see her much in other clothes except for the night we all went out to a local club. My roommate Collin had invited her and no one was more surprised than I was to see her decked out in a skintight red dress that hugged all her curves just right.
Tonight though, she’s not in the uniform of jeans and a T-shirt. She’s wearing some black leggings tucked into tall black boots with a soft mint-colored sweater that hangs mid-thigh. She looks classy and understated. Sexy.
I realize I’m staring. “Were you reading?” I ask, stating the obvious.
“Oh, well yeah. I do other things besides take off my clothes.”
I groan for two reasons. One, she’s never going to let me live down that insult. Two, I don’t want to start thinking about her out of the sexy clothes. “You like fighting with me for some reason? Is it a turn-on for you?”