Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

***

As usual, Damon was late. I’d been waiting in the restaurant for nearly ten minutes before he bothered to show up. He was an incredibly handsome man; I had to admit that he looked really hot in his white cotton short-sleeved button-up shirt that had four buttons loose at the top. His long legs were encased in his cowboy-style jeans with his shirt casually hanging over the waistband. His hair was still damp and had been slicked back while his face was smooth shaven; gone was the scruff that had lined his rugged jawline earlier.

There was not one woman who didn’t turn to admire Damon as he walked toward me. I had to take a sip of my water as my throat felt a little dry. My annoyance at the man was starting to take a turn on my health.

“Thank you for showing up,” I said sarcastically.

“Am I late?” Damon asked me and looked at the watch that had trapped my hair earlier.

“I see you remembered to bring your folder,” I watched as Damon put his best man folder on the table next to him.

“Of course,” Damon gave me one of his charming smiles before hailing a waiter. “Can we have some menus please?” He asked the waiter who naturally came over as soon as he raised his hand. I’d been sitting there for ten minutes and had to basically beg for a glass of water.

Damon insisted on getting a bottle of wine for the table. I was not going to drink any alcohol. I had a busy day tomorrow, which had become a lot busier thanks to Damon cutting my hair and having to help him plan the groom’s week.

“Can I see how far you are on your best man plans?” I asked Damon as the waiter filled up our wine glasses.

“Sure,” Damon opened the folder and pulled out an A4 piece of paper he’d scribbled on. Was he serious? I thought to myself flabbergasted and took the note from him. “Seriously?” I asked, holding the note in my hands.

“To be fair,” Damon picked up his wine glass, “I only started planning it a few days ago while waiting for my flight to America at Charles de Gaulle airport.”

“Wow,” I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got then.”

I had to grudgingly admit that even though it was written on an A4 piece of paper, he’d gotten quite a bit planned and gone into coded detail about the plans.

“I know it’s not up to your PowerPoint presentation standards,” Damon took a sip of his wine.

I couldn’t help but notice what nice hands he had for a man. An image of what those hands could do to someone flashed through my mind. I shook those thoughts out my mind. It was a long time ago and a drunken college night of celebrations. I force myself to concentrate on what Damon had written on the paper.

“How did you know about all these venues?” I asked him as I cleared my throat.

“Google,” Damon raised his glass, “our new internet concierge.” He grinned.

His smile was damn sexy and showed off his perfectly white teeth with no traces of the red wine he’d just drunk on them. What kind of alien was he that nothing seemed to stick to him!

“You’ve got ticks next to a lot of these,” my eyes narrowed suspiciously, “and then you’ve scribbled over some of them.” I turned the page and pointed to the two venues we were supposed to look at the next day. “Like these two we are going to check out tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Daman put his wine down on the table and leaned forward. “That’s because I couldn’t get the venue.”

“Ah,” well that did make sense. But I was sure that the one had a tick on it before he tried to cross it out. I let it go. It was not worth the trouble and I really didn’t feel like having another round of “anything you can do, I can top by a million” with Damon Winters.

“I would really appreciate it if you could get us into this one,” Damon pointed at the club they were going to early the next morning.

“Like I said, I know the owner and he’ll be there early,” I told him. “I’m sure if he can, he’ll accommodate the bachelor party.”

“Oh, and the golf day,” Damon told me, “that’s also a very important day.”

“Yes,” I sighed, “you sent five messages about it.”

“Sorry about that,” Damon stifled a yawn. “I’m really beat. So, I was not sure if I got the urgency of needing that tee-time across.”

“I think I got it with the first Drew will die if we don’t organize this game, message,” I looked at him with raised eyebrows, “the four others that followed reminding me were not necessary as I have a pretty good memory.” I gave him a tight smile.