Text Me Page 7
“No, actually—it sounds like she was the one blowing—”
Carter coughed. “Don’t even say it, gutter slave.”
David finally swallowed his mouthful and spoke. “You didn’t waste any time changing gears.”
“Damn. You’re like a revolving door. Maybe you should take it a little slower next time.”
“Slow wasn’t the problem. Maybe I shouldn’t listen to Jackson’s advice. The guy was full of shit.”
Garth glanced at David then cleared his throat. “What do you expect from a guy who talked us all into buying season tickets so he could use them?”
“Huh?” Carter stopped chewing. “You bought Astros tickets too?”
“No, mine are for basketball. And David bought football tickets. What about you, Rog? What did you get?”
Roger sighed. “Soccer. Well, the guy’s no idiot. Why spend the money if someone else will?”
Carter shook his head. “That’s rich since he’s the loaded one in our group. Why’d he stand me up last weekend?”
David laughed. “Because he’s—”
Garth slugged him in the arm and furrowed his brows. “Shut up.”
“What? Someone should say it.” David rubbed his shoulder. “Shit, you didn’t have to punch me, asshole.”
“Say what?” Carter asked.
Garth lifted his phone. “Yikes, David, we need to get back. All hell is breaking loose at work.” He pushed hard against David, almost sending him to the floor.
“Hey! Let me finish.”
“No time. Move it.”
Carter blinked and stared after his two friends as they all but ran from the restaurant. “What the hell was that about?”
Roger slid from the booth and moved to the other side, opposite Carter. “No idea.” He shook his head and stood as soon as the chick with the camera rose from her spot behind Carter and went for a refill. He pointed at Carter’s cup. “Want more?”
“I’m fine.”
It took Rog a full five minutes to fill his cup, add a bunch of sugar, and get a straw—which he normally never bothered to use. All the while, he hovered next to the spiked hair woman. When she placed a lid on hers and headed for the door, he finally returned. For some reason, the entire dance the two had just played reminded Carter of hanging out at the park hoping to run into Abby. Why hadn’t he just talked to her? It would have saved him the past three months with Amanda. Maybe.
“Take a picture next time,” he told Roger. “Then you can stare at it all you want. She probably thought you were stalking her.”
He shrugged. “Hey, she’s cute. I think I know her, not sure.”
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
“I said I wasn’t sure. Hair’s different. Say what exactly? You look just like someone I used to know—that’s a great line. Or maybe, I’m a tea guy, how about you? Or sooo, you hang out here often? What about—hey, that’s a cute cup you’re holding?”
“Anything’s better than nothing. Just curious, Roger, were hers real?”
“Huh? What? Oh, I-I don’t know, I wasn’t looking.” Roger’s face turned the color of a stop sign. “Hey, aren’t you going to Bangkok next week to work on that contract for the sports equipment guys?”
Carter nodded. Good change of subject.
• • •
Abby was with customers when Caroline rushed in from lunch and dropped a bag of food beside her purse. She had little opportunity to eat for another hour and even then, more customers were out front with Caroline. Between the two of them, they barely spoke until the end of day. Caroline said the luncheon outing wasn’t a big deal and she’d left because one of the guys was leering at her. It gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Abby wanted to pry Caroline with questions, but that would be desperate, which she certainly was not. In fact, she hadn’t cared one way or the other if Carter and his friends thought any part of her anatomy wasn’t real. It was ridiculous. Nor was she concerned whether Carter actually said anything about her. He was still on the rebound, and rebounders were a bad bet.
Chapter Eleven
Carter braced for takeoff and closed his eyes. Flying was a ritual, or so he told himself. He’d been on a number of airplanes as the business grew. No matter where he sat or how big the plane, he was borderline claustrophobic the moment he clicked the belt around his hips.
He mentally voiced the numerous things he always did—thankfulness for his fortune, blessings for his friends and family, and promises to be his best self. Just in case he crashed and met his maker. If any of the guys he hung around knew what went through his head on a plane, they’d label him a sap for sure. Still, it had worked for him thus far; he had no intention of switching gears and breaking the good fortune and smooth flights. A small part of him believed karma was a good thing. Or at least nothing to mess with.
When the plane leveled off at full altitude, he pulled his laptop from below the seat and read through his presentation. The company had put him in charge of this venture and, with their new confidence, it was critical he prepare adequately. This was a contact Jackson knew and he was counting on that to be a good referral. They needed this contract if they were going to stay on target and minimize their production costs.
He’d called Jackson twice to discuss the project and gave up. As a last resort, he sent Jackson a quick text to let him know about the meeting, half-hoping he’d join him on the trip. No answer. Not like the guy.
A week and a half later, he reversed his flight routine and headed home. His laptop was filled with notes, copies of building plans and designs, and the longest to-do list he’d managed since starting his job six months earlier. He was exhausted and Jackson had been a no-show. It would have been irritating as hell if he hadn’t been too busy to think about it.
The ten-hour flight managed to satisfy his need for sleep but had done nothing to rest his mind. Swirling thoughts of work made him anxious. As the plane taxied to the gate, it dawned on him he’d thought of little else the entire trip. Not a single time had his mind wandered to Amanda or their breakup.
Then he passed the airport florist on the way to his car and he realized his thoughts had been on a woman. Or maybe not his thoughts, but his dreams. Only the woman was surrounded by flowers and ribbon, and she’d done some pretty crazy things with them.
Abby.
Once he reached home, he checked his watch then dialed Information. With the number in his phone, he dialed Jeffries Florist. The minute she spoke, he felt the smile behind the words.
He grabbed an apple from his backpack, took a bite, and spoke as he chewed. “I’d like to voice a complaint.”
“Oh, no! Whatever it is, we’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“You promise?” He swallowed the apple and grinned.
“Of course. How can we make it better?”
“Well, I was in there a couple of weeks ago and bought some plants from this girl. Nice looking, good salesperson—but real bossy.”
Did she just suck in air? “Carter?”
He laughed. “Yeah, how’s things, Abby?”
“So, you’re not really complaining?”
“Well, I do kind of have a problem.” He glanced at the brown leaves drooping on the philodendron. “I’ve been on a business trip for a while and one of the plants is losing all its leaves. I watered it before I left but I think I killed it.”
“Which one?”
He told her and she proceeded to tell him it would perk back up with water.
“Perk—okay, sounds good. Hey, did you ever get a chance to meet that blind date?” He rolled the apple, seeking for a good spot to bite again.
“Um, sort of.” She quickly changed the subject. “I heard Maddie got her boot off and is walking now. I don’t need to worry about you losing control again, do I?”
Hmmm. Losing control. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He grabbed a cup from the cabinet, filled it, and doused his molting plant. “You mean with Ruckus?”
“
Of course, what did you think I meant?”
“No idea. Listen, I was actually calling about business.” The thought popped into his head mere seconds before he spoke, but it was still good.
“Yours or mine?”
“Um, both. We moved into our building less than a year ago and it’s pretty empty. I wondered if you guys did corporate plant maintenance?”
“You mean watering, pruning, and all that?”
“Yeah. We need to spruce it up. So, do you?”
Seconds ticked as she considered his question. “Of course, but I’d need to come by and look at the space and give you an estimate. We’d have to charge for delivery, but other than that and the monthly care fee, it would be hands-free. No way you could kill them.”
“Great. Come by tomorrow at eleven.” He rattled off the street address and told her where to go once inside. “Oh, Abby—you can tell me about the loser blind date then too. Over lunch.”
He clicked the phone off before she could refuse and headed to the fridge for a beer. He’d completely forgotten to mention the baseball tickets and ask if she’d go. Again.
Chapter Twelve
Listen, asshole. There r games in 2 wks. If u plan to go, say so or I’m asking someone else.
Carter figured that would get Jackson’s attention. He didn’t understand it. The guy had seemed more than willing to take the tickets off his hands when Amanda dumped him, but then he just disappeared. Carter had called him also, but it went straight to an automated voice mail. If not for the texting responses, Carter would have thought he was hurt—or something else was wrong. He frowned and pecked in a few more words.
Answer me or I’m coming by ur office and making a fool of you
He waited a full five minutes.
Ding.
That would just make a fool of u, not me
Should I tell ur boss you took a picture of her changing clothes in the car for yoga?
Carter expected a smartass response, but nothing came. At all. He still had no idea about the tickets.
The blinking icon on his screen reminded him that it’d been a while since he’d looked at the Justchat application, not that he had time for any chatting with his crazy schedule. Still, he should at least respond if there was a message. He tapped the open key.
She Hearts Dogs: Sorry it’s been a while, crazy week. I don’t know why I chose that nickname … wishful thinking, I guess. I live in an apartment where no pets are allowed. Always wanted a dog. What about you? You live with any other creatures?
For a living? Own my own business. Just getting started and it’s a little scary.
Impressive. He keyed in a response.
Everything in life is scary if you think about it too much. Just keep moving. You’ll do great. Take my word on this: No one ever fails that doesn’t give up.
Yeah, it sounded a little too preachy but she obviously needed a little encouragement. The pop-up surprised him with an instant response.
She Hearts Dogs: Thanks! Think I’ll print that and put it in my pocket. May need to refer back to it whenever I start to question my sanity.
Carter chuckled, mainly because he should probably do the same. He clicked in a short answer.
Sanity? What’s that? No such thing in today’s world. Though if you’re starting out on your own, I’d say you’re pretty sane. Brave as hell too. Why haven’t I met you yet?
He watched the screen till a response popped up.
She Hearts Dogs: Awww. Wish that brave thing were true. The reality is I come from a large family where everyone jumps right into the family business straight out of college. I guess I’m the only rebel. I tried it for a while but wanted more. The thought of doing it for the rest of my life was worse than eating worms.
Not sure why I couldn’t force myself to take the safe road—life would have been a lot less complicated.
Yeah, well, complications happen regardless. He shrugged. When the office phone blared, he jolted. The receptionist announced Abby’s arrival. He thrust his phone into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and headed to the lobby.
She had her hair pulled into a ponytail and some silver hoops dangled from her ears. Was she wearing lipstick? Her lips were a little full anyway, but that was certainly … attention grabbing.
She met him halfway across the floor and reached a hand out to shake his. Fingernail polish, a skirt, and—heels. He flicked a glance at the tight lines of muscles just above her knees. It was a paradox. A damn teaser how her legs could be so toned from running yet he knew the skin to be soft, not hard. Or at least the skin on her face and arms, what little he’d touched.
Damn if there wasn’t a perverted desire to skip the office tour and get her out of the office. Alone. Would it terrify her?
“You look good.” It was the only thing he could think of because, for some stupid reason, he’d lost his voice and just stared like an idiot.
“Thanks.” She grinned. “It took twenty minutes to scrub the dirt from my fingernails. I finally gave up and just painted them.” She held up five digits and wiggled them in his face. Was that why she always wore nail polish?
The receptionist watched with a dark scowl. Carter put a hand to Abby’s back and pressed her toward the elevator, speaking loud enough to calm curious ears. “Okay, let’s take the tour. We have about twenty areas I thought could use something. We’re not touching the individual offices. Just the community spaces and meeting rooms. The lobby you saw. The rest is this way.”
When the elevator doors closed, she turned toward him. “You know the person who greets visitors sets the tone for your business. It’s the first impression one gets.”
He lifted a brow and leaned against the wall. “What are you trying to say?” He stared at the red polish as she pushed a loose hair back from her face.
She shrugged. “Nothing. Maybe she was just having a bad day.”
Badeep deep.
The noise came from her phone and she reached in her purse, shuffled around, then turned as the elevator opened. “Sorry about that. I turned it off.”
“You can answer it if you need to. It might be business.”
“No, Caroline’s taking care of things. No one would call me. Show me.” She held those shiny nails out and gestured him to lead the way. Which, for some reason, sent heat straight to parts of him that wanted those nails anywhere and everywhere but the public meeting rooms of his office.
He led her down the hall to the first room, the employee kitchen and lounge. Thankfully it was empty. The minute the door clicked behind them, he snagged her fingers and held the nails up for inspection. He turned the thin fingers in his and watched as her eyes flared.
She bit into her lip and the lipstick seemed to—beckon.
“I like it. The red. It suits you. Cheerful.” It was a stupid thing to say but hell, if he didn’t say something, he was going to do something really stupid. Their eyes locked. Oh, hell, why not. He reached out and slid his fingers behind her head, wrapping the ponytail between his thumb and fingers. He yanked her close and dropped his mouth on the lips that had him tied in knots the minute she walked in. Holy shit. She tasted like apples. And sin. Or maybe heaven. He wasn’t sure because as soon as their lips touched, she opened up and stroked her tongue against his.
It shocked him and turned him on instantly.
• • •
Abby hadn’t really planned to attack him. He kept staring at her mouth, then her legs, and finally her fingernails. It was seductive the way he kept looking around as if trying not to stare, then returning—to her.
She told herself it was business and she’d dressed appropriately. Sure, she could have just worn the pants and tops she had on at the shop, but that wasn’t professional enough and she wanted to make an impression. It was just about the job, she tried to convince herself.
With their tongues wrapped together in a swami dance, there wasn’t anything the least bit professional in her head. Nope. Carnal, perhaps.
When he let go of h
er fingers and palmed both sides of her face while he walked her backward against the door they’d entered, her thoughts evaporated. There wasn’t anything businesslike in that kiss. Not that kissing was ever businesslike in her world.
She curled her toes in the heels and was certain she’d topple right off them if he let go. Which he didn’t. He stepped away and searched her face for a second then came right back. Into another one of those hellaciously wet and delicious kisses. The door handle dug into her back and her weight twisted it. Her ears were ringing and his lips continued to rattle her nerves. And the handle at her back.
Bang bang bang.
The door handled twisted again.
“Hey, unlock the door,” a female voice complained.
Carter released her so fast Abby fell forward on her heels. She quickly gained control and smoothed the skirt then felt her head. Her ponytail surely was a mess. She didn’t dare turn, just cleared her throat. “Um, I think we could probably put a couple of ficus trees in this room. They’d do quite well. What do you think?” She rubbed a hand over her burning mouth, worried lipstick was all over her face.
Carter nodded. “Let’s look at the other spaces.” He motioned her out the door and down the hall.
The next room had four people in a meeting. Heads swiveled when they rushed through the door, taking in her hair and dress. He waved a hand. “Sorry, just evaluating the room for plants. This one doesn’t need much.”
They stepped out and hurried toward the next. Her face was heated as she fully expected the next room to be filled too. All of whom would take one look at them and know she’d just given him a tonsil lashing. When the door opened, she was relieved.
It was empty.
“Thank God.” Carter let out a breath.
She whirled on him and glared. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
He grinned. “I was about to ask you the same question. Only maybe I should just—”
Damned if he didn’t drop his mouth to hers again. Only this time he twisted the door lock shut behind her. She had no idea how much time passed while they played tonsil hockey. Nor did she care. In fact, it hadn’t really been a surprise when she drew back and his hand was on her waist—inside her shirt.