“Paramour? Are you kidding me? No comment.” I check my watch. “I’ve got a lunch date.”
“It’s eleven.”
“Yeah, I eat early. Since Addie’s not in, I need to close up the office. Please excuse me.” I grab my purse and walk out from behind the desk.
Just as Braden walks into the office.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Kay,” Braden says. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here, since you’ve already called my office three times today.”
“Mr. Black.” She holds out her hand. “A pleasure as always.”
He takes her hand and shakes it firmly. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to talk to Skye.”
“Of course. How long have you two been dating?”
I gulp. His answer to this question is far more important to me than it is to Kay. He certainly won’t say we’re sleeping together.
Then again, this is Braden. I’ve heard him say many things I never expected.
“We only met about a week ago,” he says.
“And your date at the gala?”
“We didn’t arrive together,” he says. “Ms. Manning and I saw each other at the gala and talked a bit.”
Another gulp. His response is clear and concise. I just wish he said we were dating.
“Your lunch date, Ms. Manning, is with Mr. Black?” Kay asks.
“No, it’s—”
“Yes, it is,” Braden says. “Are you ready, Skye?”
I clear my throat. At least this will get rid of Kay. “Yeah, I’m ready. I need to lock up.”
“Of course.” Kay walks out the door and then turns and looks over her shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. With both of you.” She turns and leaves.
“Thanks for the save,” I say. “I thought she was here to see Addie.”
“I figured she’d bother you this morning after she called my office and mentioned you by name.”
“You came here to warn me?”
“In part.”
“In part?”
“Yeah. I thought you might be up for an early lunch.”
“Sorry. I’m meeting Tessa in an hour.”
He narrows his eyes and his gaze seems to melt me. “Cancel.”
Cancel.
One word. One unremarkable word in his deep, raspy voice, and I want to obey him without question.
I grasp the edge of my desk to keep from toppling over. “I can’t. Tess and I always have lunch on Mondays.” And most other days, for that matter, unless one of us is working over the noon hour.
My phone buzzes. It’s Tessa. “Excuse me for a minute,” I say to Braden. “Hey, Tess.”
“You’re never going to believe what happened. A courier just delivered a package to my office from Braden.”
“Oh?” A sliver of jealousy knifes through me.
“Yeah. It’s my dress, Skye. Or a perfect replica. I can’t even believe it. I told you not to worry about it.”
I clear my throat. “He said he’d replace it.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this is the exact dress, but it can’t be. It doesn’t have a label.”
“Hold on a minute.” I mute the phone and turn to Braden. “She got the dress.”
“Good.”
“She says it’s perfect. Did you get it repaired?”
“It was beyond repair, as you know.”
“Then how did you…?”
“I gave the remains to my personal tailor yesterday, along with your Instagram photo. He was able to replicate it.”
My jaw drops. “In a day?”
“I’m a very good customer.” He smirks.
I hold back an eye roll and unmute the phone. “His tailor replicated it yesterday,” I tell Tessa.
“Well, tell him a thousand thank-yous. I just took a closer look, and the fabric is much better quality than the original.”
“You can tell him yourself.” I hand the phone to Braden.
“Ms. Logan,” he says.
Pause.
“You’re very welcome. Any time.”
Pause.
“Actually, there is something you can do for me.”
Pause.
“Let me take Skye to lunch today. You can have lunch with her tomorrow.”
Pause.
“I appreciate that. And you don’t have to keep thanking me. Have a good day.” He hands the phone back to me.
“Tess?” I say.
But she already hung up.
Braden stares at me, his eyes full of blue fire. “Seems you’re free for lunch after all, Skye.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Tessa said you sent the dress to her office,” I say to Braden after we order our meal at a cute little French bistro. “How did you know where she works?”
“That kind of information isn’t hard to find,” he replies.
“Not when you can pay for it,” I say. “Just out of curiosity, how much did that dress cost you on such short notice?”
His lips twitch. I think he might smile, but he doesn’t. “I never discuss personal purchases.”
“Oh?”
“No. It’s no one’s business how much I pay for anything.”
I can’t argue the point. He’s right. “Well, it was nice of you. Very nice.”
“I said I’d replace it.”
“I know, but I didn’t expect you to actually replicate it. Why would you do that?”
Braden takes a sip of water. “Because I can.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I like that he doesn’t discuss his purchases. That’s cool, in my book. How much of Braden is nouveau riche, and how much is old-school blue-collar? I’d like to find out, but he’s such a puzzle.