“Not in great detail, but we’ll be doing that once he returns from Vietnam and Hong Kong,” she said, and was tempted to add among other things.
Well, she was getting ahead of herself thinking of other things. They’d need to start with dinner, with more getting-to-know-you before they got to other things. She certainly hoped they had a good time at dinner. And that he was a good guy too. And, of course, that he treated her well. Would it be too much to also want him to be well hung?
Like Nate.
Who knew he’d been packing that kind of heat all along? She was a lucky lady to be able to turn to a man like him for her bedroom makeover project. Because that man did not have a textbook dick. His dick was so beautiful it needed a nickname. Like JackHammer. Or Plow Me Now. Or Mouthwateringly Delicious. Or Long, Tall Piece of Man Candy.
Actually, those sounded more like marketing slogans that other sex toy makers might use, like her friends at Good Vibes. She loved that company and was in regular contact with the top execs, but they approached the market differently. Joy Delivered tried to operate at a cut above, but Nate had her stooping to all sorts of low levels. Like on her knees. Or maybe on her hands and knees next.
Okay, time for her wandering mind to get out of its down and dirty gutter, and focus on catching up with her top employee on Monday afternoon.
Nelle peered at Casey over the top of her fuchsia glasses. They were camped out on the purple couch in Casey’s office, the one she’d chosen for her brother when he was CEO, then reclaimed when he left for Paris.
“I’ve got some ideas I’d like to share with you for how to promote the partnership. Perhaps they’ll come in handy as we prep. Contracts told me the paperwork has already been sent over, so we might as well get moving,” Nelle said. The woman was both efficient and creative. Those twin qualities rarely resided in one body, but they did in Nelle, who’d been overseeing the rollout plans for the LolaRing.
The new toy had received through-the-roof reviews from The Happiest Ladies in the World, the product-testing group at the company. The toy marked an evolution in one of Joy Delivered’s most popular vibrators, the Lola, that simulated oral sex. It was an amazing device, and truly felt like the world’s most talented tongue. The LolaRing was a two-person toy, because it paired the Lola with a cock ring. Being man-free for the last year, Casey hadn’t been able to take the LolaRing for a test drive herself, but the Happiest Ladies had said in their product write-ups that it was “like being licked and fucked” at the same time. “Translation: Heaven, Absolute Heaven,” one of them had written.
Casey was jealous as hell when she’d read those reviews.
She tried to picture a man like Grant wanting to use this toy with her, but the image didn’t compute, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe because she was putting the cart before the horse to think of him that way. She didn’t know if they were physically compatible, or emotionally compatible, for that matter. She didn’t even know how he kissed. And here she was, trying to change her ways for him.
Was she crazy? Foolish? Or just plain stupid?
But, she reasoned, even if Grant Abbot was a bust, she needed to try a different approach with the opposite sex in general. Her romantic life had been sorely in need of a shake-up. And that’s what she was giving it. These lessons with Nate would be useful whether she and Grant were a match, or she and the next guy.
Right? Right.
Funny how giving up control with Nate wasn’t as hard as she’d expected, but maybe that was because he knew her inside and out. She trusted him completely. Grant was a step up from a stranger. And that was all the more reason to keep up the lessons. She needed to be thoroughly schooled in how to let go.
A hand waved broadly in her face. “Earth to Casey.”
She snapped her attention back to Nelle, with her piercing dark eyes and straight black hair. “Sorry,” she said.
“You went in space cadet mode there,” Nelle said with a smirk. “Worn out from New Orleans?”
Worn out from great . . . almost sex. “Yes. Sorry. It was just such a quick trip. One night-turnaround and all,” she said, even though that was no excuse. She’d been back in New York for two full days now. She wasn’t known for zoning out during a one-on-one meeting with her right-hand woman. She pushed all men from her mind.
When they finished the meeting, Nelle headed out, stopping briefly in the doorway. She rapped her knuckles on the wood. “Knock, knock.”
Casey rolled her eyes, but happily replied with “Who’s there?” This was the side of Nelle that wasn’t no-nonsense. Her knock-knock side.
“Ben Hur,” Nelle replied, deadpan style.
“Ben Hur who?” Casey asked as she sank down into her desk chair.
“Ben Hur over the table,” Nelle said, then doffed an imaginary top hat and bowed deeply before leaving on a trail of Casey’s amusement.
Later that afternoon, Casey plowed through her emails, pleased to find a note from Grant.
“Glad to see everything is moving along smoothly with our deal. I’m taking off for Asia this evening, so let me simply say I hope the next month flies by.”
She grinned and the teeniest spark tried to light up in her chest at the thought of Grant. She concentrated on that small flame, tried to will it to flare, but it quickly died out. There’d be time for flames though, for roaring fires and burning heat. These were the first tentative steps. Clicking through her inbox, she stopped at a message from her brother that had arrived a few minutes ago, which was after midnight, his time. He’d always been a night owl, but he and Michelle had taken to the Paris lifestyle, dining out at 10 p.m. on most nights. They’d probably just returned from dinner.
Michelle is calling you about your dress. Whatever she says, YOU LIKE IT.
Casey tapped out a quick reply. But I DO like it!
Moments later, her phone rang from the France country code.
“Hi Michelle,” Casey said, as she swiveled around in her chair, giving herself a better view of her favorite office scenery—a replica of a Roy Lichtenstein painting, a comic book style rendering of a couple kissing. She had another one from the series at her home.
“How did you know it was me, and not Jack?” Michelle asked curiously.
“He just emailed and told me you were calling. He also told me to tell you no matter what that I like the dress. But I LOVE the bridesmaid dress, so I don’t have to fake it. And you should tell him he doesn’t have to say those things.”