She stood. “You can be a jerk sometimes, you know that?”
I rose from my chair and grabbed my coat. “So can you. There’s a nice deli around the corner. I can have my secretary order and we can eat up on the rooftop terrace. We can discuss moving arrangements as well as getting you a new apartment and possibly a safer car. That is unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”
That last statement was a bit petty. I knew she had nothing else to do or place to be.
I gave my secretary the orders and then escorted Anne up to the roof. California was a leader in the green movement, climate change, and sustainability. As such, it offered tax incentives for being energy efficient and adding green space.
Not that I was only interested in the tax benefits. I liked clean air and a nice park-like place to hang out in if I needed a break from the corporate day. But the incentives were the catalyst that had me building a roof-top terrace with grass, trees, and plants, covered areas with tables for eating, and even a walking/running track around the edge for anyone wanting to workout. It had a nice view of the city. I sometimes came up there to work.
“This is nice,” she said, as she looked over the terrace.
“Thanks.” I eyed her wondering if she was being sincere or was about to follow up with some sort of snarky comment.
“Did you get a big tax write-off?”
And there it was. “I did. And I got a nice place to enjoy lunch or get away from people who are difficult to be around.”
She smirked at me. “You’re not going to throw me off the roof, are you?”
“Probably not.”
My secretary brought up the meals and Anne and I sat at a table to eat.
“You know this is crazy, right?” Anne took a bite of her turkey and cheese sandwich.
I shrugged. “Is it? Surrogacy is big business these days.”
“I meant for you and me to be doing this.”
I studied her. “I can’t decide if you’re putting me down or—”
“You and I don’t get along. I still can’t decide why you’ve asked me.”
“Because you need the money and I need a smart, healthy woman to give me a child. How we feel about each other isn’t a factor. Not for me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you feel about me?”
I popped a chip into my mouth wanting to give myself a moment to compose a comment that wasn’t rude or worse, gave away this odd attraction to her.
“I think you’re smart—”
She snorted. “No really.”
I sighed. “I think you’re smart and loyal, but also, rude, snarky, and sometimes lacking in common sense.” Plus, sexy as fuck.
She laughed and I was glad she wasn’t offended. “Want to know what I think of you?”
“I already know.”
“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All, what do I think of you?”
“You think I’m mean, dour, overbearing, overcontrolling, and completely lacking in humor.”
“Wow. Spot on. But you forgot irritating.”
I leaned toward her. “As in sexually irritating.” I wished I hadn’t said it. It gave away too much about how I felt about yesterday.
“No. As in your personality is irritating.”