Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

I groaned. “No. I don’t. This was a one and done. I swear to you.”

Grant and I had nothing in common. It would never work.

He’d left without one word about seeing each other again, which was exactly what I had expected. It had been spontaneous fun.

But I couldn’t help but wonder if he would be at the diner next Wednesday.

Eating his pancakes. Fantasizing about syrup.

Andre eyed me as I got into the car. I watched him take in my rumpled suit and disheveled hair. He opened his mouth.

I slammed the door shut. “Not one word, Andre. Seriously.”

He grinned. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I need to swing by my apartment and change before my three o’clock appointment.” Not only were my clothes wrinkled, I was missing my top shirt button and my tie. Plus, I smelled like sex.

Andre snorted. “No shit.”

“Mind your own business,” I said absently, not actually annoyed with Andre. I was distracted. I was… sucker-punched.

Leah had been everything I had envisioned and more.

My assistant was harassing me via text with questions about when I was going to be available, but I honestly didn’t care. I had half a mind to just go home and call it a day. I wanted to pour myself a glass of whiskey and remember every detail of Leah. Of her body, her smile, her orgasm.

Holy shit, that had lived up to every dirty thought I’d had about her for the last six months.

The only problem was now I wanted more. I wanted her in my apartment, in a big bed that would allow me to change positions with her easily. I wanted to see her naked in my shower, and to press her back up against the Carrera marble. I wanted to bend her over my sofa and take her from behind while she made those sexy-ass sounds of pleasure.

I wanted her. Damn it.

I cleared my throat and adjusted my cock.

Dialing my assistant, I glanced out the window at the tree-lined street. The neighborhood had investment potential.

“Where are you?” Darren demanded instead of greeting me. He sounded frantic.

Fresh out of college, he was intelligent, eager to learn, and just as much of a workaholic as I was. Darren was short, thin, and wore designer glasses. He donned bow ties and pants that barely skimmed his ankles with insanely expensive socks below the cuffs. My mother loved Darren and kept suggesting that I should date him, ignoring the obvious that I was neither gay nor interested in the messy dynamic of dating an employee who was a decade younger than me.

But in the end, what my mother wanted was what mattered when it came to her opinions on my life. She thought we’d make a great couple. Therefore, reality didn’t matter.

“I’m in the car heading to my apartment.”

“Why? What is going on?” Darren made a sound of disapproval. “I am freaking out. Mr. Zhang is flying out tomorrow. You have to see him today if you want to discuss the Times Square hotel project.”

“I know. That’s why I’m meeting him at three.” I glanced at my watch. Twelve thirty. Plenty of time. “Now don’t worry about that. I need you to order a care package and send it to Leah Romano.” I tapped Andre. “What was that address,

Andre?”

He gave me the address for Leah’s building and I repeated it to Darren. “It’s for a sprained ankle so a bandage and… I don’t know. What the hell goes in a care package?” It’s not like I’d ever gotten one. “Flowers, right?”

There was a pause then Darren said, “Well, who is she?”

He sounded curious and I decided to keep it as close to the truth as possible. “She’s the woman who serves me every Wednesday and she got hit by a cab chasing after me when I dropped a hundred-dollar bill and she tried to return it to me. Fortunately, it wasn’t too serious but she did wind up with a sprained ankle.”

I’d already given her my eight-inch package but that didn’t count. It seemed appropriate and polite to send her a little something. It was my fault she’d run into the street and was now going to miss several days of work.

“What’s the budget?”