Jason Strong was tall and muscular. She noticed how perfectly his button-down shirt hung from his solid shoulders and laid against his broad chest. Claire bit her lip as her gaze traveled down his flat abdomen to take in the way his faded jeans clung to his thighs. The man had been handsome and athletic in school but now, at twenty-eight years old, he was in his prime.
Claire dragged her gaze back up to his face. It was risky—sometimes she couldn’t stop staring at him. She knew every line and angle of his blunt cheekbones, square jaw and slightly crooked nose. Today she noticed he needed to cut his dark brown hair. He usually kept it short because he didn’t like how it curled.
He spoke to a small group of elderly women who were enjoying a day out. She couldn’t hear what Jason said but she caught snatches of his deep, melodic voice. From the rapt attention the other women showed, Claire realized she wasn’t the only one who could listen to him all day.
The left corner of his mouth tilted up and then he smiled.
Claire sighed. Jason Strong was a charmer. A flirt. He knew how to tease gently and how to work that smile.
Jason must have felt her gaze. He suddenly looked in her direction. She tried to give a cool nod as she watched his bright blue eyes light up. Her heart thumped hard against her rib cage, but she wasn’t dumb enough to read anything into his reaction. Jason was just a friendly guy.
“Claire!” He motioned for her to meet him at the bar near the staircase.
He didn’t used to welcome her so warmly, she remembered. Claire had been the annoying friend of his little sister who was always at his family’s home growing up. He was only two years older but there had been times when it felt as if he had been a world away and just as far out of her league.
“Okay, Jason,” Claire said as she sat down on a bar stool and placed her bag on the seat next to her. “I came as quickly as I could. What’s the emergency?”
“Have a drink first,” He stood on the other side of the bar and rested his arms on top of the counter. “Merlot, right?”
She was surprised that he remembered her favorite drink from his family’s boutique winery. The wine bar had many loyal customers but she was usually here to discuss projects and rarely indulged in a glass. “No, thanks. Now, what’s going on?”
“I decided to have a party for our reserve label next weekend. Everyone is invited. Not just the wine club.” He gestured with his hands as he pictured his idea. “We have to promote it big.”
“Another event? Next weekend?” Claire asked cautiously. She should keep her mouth shut. Jason was her best client. She needed all the work she could get but this was getting out of hand.
Jason was always optimistic. Too optimistic. But then, the guy never failed. Every project he started, every idea that came into his head, was successful.
“Next Friday. It’ll be fine.” Jason gave another lopsided smile that made her forget to breathe. “Who doesn’t love a party?”
A wallflower. But no one had ever accused Jason of being one of those. He knew how to throw a party and these events showcased his strengths. Who was she to say anything?
“Think you can handle the short notice?” he asked.
Tension squeezed her chest as she considered the amount of work she had to accomplish for her other clients during the week. But to suggest she couldn’t handle the party would be admitting defeat. “Of course,” she said with a weak smile.
She watched him tap his fingers on the bar. The man had a restless, almost insatiable energy. Some people found it exhausting. She found it exhilarating. She wished some of it would rub off on her.
Claire had learned from experience that nothing would temper his enthusiasm for his latest project. He couldn’t be bothered with schedules and budgets. Still, she felt compelled to remind him of the potential problems. “Your events calendar is already packed.”
“I know, isn’t it great?” Jason asked. “Business has really picked up since we’ve been focused on our social media.”
Claire ducked her head as her face warmed from the compliment. It felt good to be recognized for her work. “You’re welcome,” she said gruffly.
“Hold on, Claire, I’m being called to the kitchen.” He walked around the bar. “I’ll be right back.”
She was tempted to watch him walk away. Instead, Claire grabbed her cell phone and checked her messages as if her life depended on it. A text came in just as she entered her password.
How’s the transformation going?