“I have time for a coffee until my first tour starts,” I tell her. “Come up, I’ll give you all the details about St. Anne’s. How many kids there are, what they do with the donors’ fund, and so on.”
“No time today,” she says quickly. “I just wanted to touch base.”
Riiiight, that’s why she made the trip here.
“Well, you let me know when you have some time,” I insist. “And talk to your bosses about that feature. We really do need more publicity.”
Her gaze darts to the door. Perfect.
“Sure, I’ll... I’ll let you know.”
“It was nice meeting you, Tara.”
We shake hands again, and I only become aware of how tight my body has been strung by tension when she steps out of the venue. I managed to throw her off... for now.
***
“Bring them in here. There’s just enough space for all of them to fit in.”
The delivery boys poke their heads inside the storage room, taking a look around.
“Right away, ma’am.”
Overlooking the delivery of a new collection isn’t my favorite thing to do on a Friday evening, but sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. The storage room is behind a sliding panel, so it’s not completely separated from the main display room on the ground floor. I pace the space, watching the guys bring in the first two paintings. I cringe, because they’re each carrying one, and the paintings are too large for one person to securely carry them. Once they set them down, I say, “Please carry each painting between the two of you, even if it takes longer.”
“Ma’am, we do this every day. We can each carry one with no problem.”
Straightening up, I roll my shoulders. “I’m not risking an accident. Those are expensive paintings.”
They roll their eyes but head ou
tside without another comment. A buzzing sound coming from the other end of the room startles me. Oh, my phone.
I briskly walk over to my bag, which I’ve left at the closed welcome counter near the main entrance. Pulling out my phone, I fully expect to find a message from my boss. Wrong. It’s from Alex, aka Super Sexy Lover.
Alex: Bossy looks hot on you.
I reread the text a few times. Wait, what?
Summer: Are you... at the gallery?
My heart begins to race while I wait for his answer. When he’d asked me earlier about my plans this evening, I thought he was just curious. Way to underestimate him.
Alex: Yes. Undo the top button of your shirt.
Holy Pop-Tarts. My mouth goes dry, my palms sweaty.
He must be upstairs. The gallery has an open floor plan. The ground floor opens up to the second level, except for a narrow corridor with an iron railing serving as a pathway between our offices.
I can’t see much, because I turned off the lights upstairs. But if Alex’s there, he’s got a direct view of what’s going on down here.
Summer: Where are you? You won’t see anything if I undo the top button.
I’m wearing a high-collar blouse, which I tucked into my pencil skirt. I’d have to undo about three buttons before there’s even a hint of a cleavage.
Alex: I know. But knowing you do what I say turns me on.
It turns me on too. I undo the top button just as the guys step inside with the second painting.