Holy Moses. She’d just admitted to herself that she missed – as in M-I-S-S-E-D – Drake Duncan. Okay, now she knew she was really in trouble. What kind of a crazy woman would be missing a man who only saw her as a note-taker, scribe, writer of memoirs, whatever, but not how she wanted to be seen – as an attractive woman he couldn’t stop thinking about? Stop it, Meg. Stop it this instant. Missing Drake is absolutely out of the question.
But it was easier said than done. Over the several weeks that she’d been seeing him, although on a professional level, he’d grown on her, her perverse heart pounding each time she thought of seeing him again.
By the time the following Thursday came around she was so jittery that she dropped her pen twice before she got to Drake’s floor of the building. She stopped outside his office door and drew in a deep breath. How old was she again? Was it thirty, twenty or was she a silly teen? Sadly she was acting like the last of the three. And all because she hadn’t seen him in the space of two weeks.
She picked up her courage from where it had fallen on the floor and tucked it into her pocket. There. Ready to roll. She tapped on the door.
At the sound of his voice she pushed the door open and entered the now familiar office with its wide glass windows and impressive view of the city below, the shimmering blue lake as its backdrop. Her eyes quickly scanned the expansive room and then settled on Drake who had been sitting at his desk but was now rising to greet her.
She was pleasantly surprised to see that today he was more casual than usual, wearing a navy sports jacket with pale blue shirt open at the collar. His hair, too, was different. He seemed to be growing it longer because today it curled at his neck in a disturbingly sexy sort of way. She almost groaned. Sheer torture.
Torture that she couldn’t just drop her briefcase on the floor, walk up to him and reach out to slide her fingers through that glossy blond hair. Torture that she couldn’t grip the back of his head and force it down till those lips met hers in a kiss so hot and hungry that it would make her forget her own name. Torture that she couldn’t shove him back into his chair and…
Jesus, Meg, get a hold of yourself. You’ve been celibate for too long.
“…feels like it’s been a month,” he was saying.
Meg blinked. “Pardon me?”
Drake smiled, a delectable smile that had her heart speeding up. “I was saying that it feels like I haven’t seen you for a month, not just two weeks.”
A month, he said? Try a year. The way her body was reacting to him it was like she’d been craving his touch for a long, long time.
And when he did connect with her, just to shake her hand, she knew what the romance novels meant when they said the girl melted at his touch. Heck, she'd even written that into her own stories. Now she knew exactly what it felt like.
When he let go she sank gratefully into the chair he’d pulled out for her then, surreptitiously, she drew in some breaths to clear her head.
“We’re almost there,” he said with a smile so warm that it caught her off guard. So where was the iceberg that had greeted her those last two meetings? In its place was a man so relaxed and cordial and gorgeous that she was having a hard time keeping her eyes off him. “After this interview I guess your focus will be on converting all those notes into a story.”
“Correct,” she said, glad he’d started a conversation. She needed the distraction. “After today I’ll be spending the next several weeks working on the first draft.”
“A lot of work and creativity,” he said as he gave her a look of admiration. “Don’t worry. I won’t be calling every few days to ask how far along you are. I’ll just leave you to do what you do best.”
Call me, Drake. Bug me. Get on my nerves. I can deal with anything except your silence. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your understanding.”
That day, the last of the interview days – at least for a while – the session went for over an hour and a half and when she was done Meg closed her notebook and gave Drake a triumphant smile. It was mostly triumphant at having completed phase I of the project but a little wobbly when she recalled that she wouldn’t see Drake that often anymore…if at all…unless they had to tie up some loose ends.
She started packing her papers and books back into the briefcase, wondering how she would say goodbye, when Drake’s voice stopped her.
“So what are you and Jessie doing this weekend?”
She paused, her papers halfway into the bag on her lap, and looked up at him. The question caught her off guard and she had to stop and think for a moment. “We were planning to go to the aquarium on Sunday and maybe the museum. It’s still too cold to do much outside.”
He nodded. “True. But I see that despite the temperature you’ve found ways to keep Jessie occupied. I like that.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“And,” he continued, “if you don’t think I’m being too presumptuous, I would love to tag along.”
“Really?’ She stared at him, incredulous. As much as the idea appealed to her she just couldn’t picture this suave tycoon trudging behind a five year old and her not-so-young-anymore mother. She chuckled inwardly at that thought.
“Really,” he said with a laugh. “And you don’t need to look so shocked. I’m human, you know.”
“I know,” she said, smiling back. “After all the information I gathered on you I know you like you’re my brother.”
“Or lover,” he said and gave her a look so full of promise that her heart jerked in her chest.
“What time should I pick you up?” he asked.
No backing out now. “Ten-thirty should be fine,” she said, accepting defeat.
But it was a defeat that sent a thrill running through her entire body. Drake Duncan was going to spend Sunday with her. Oh, and Jessica, of course. Mainly Jessica. But no matter if his focus was not on her, just being with him was going to make Sunday a heck of a great day.
******
“Why do you do this to me, man? I told you, I don’t like dressing up to go to rub shoulders with the rich and famous.” Tyson James glared at Drake as he loosened his cuffs and began to roll back his sleeves.