Adrenaline flashes in my chest at the sight of his name, and I quickly push it down. Not going there. We’re working together. I have to be professional.
My thumbs fly across my phone. I wasn’t coming home this weekend. How will I get it?
Tell me where it is, and I’ll meet you.
Chewing my lip, I think about this. When do they want me to come in?
Any time. Spencer said he’d be there all day.
Because he’s my client now. I’ll have to see him, interact with him, probably quite a lot. He hired me… He’s practically my fucking boss for the next few weeks, and I slept with him. Boy howdy, did I sleep with him.
After what happened with Elliot, I swore I’d never mix business with personal life again. Exhaling a frustrated growl, I scrub my fingers in my hair. How could I be so careless? That man is bossy, arrogant, trouble, and I ran straight into it.
Yep, I’m my own worst enemy.
* * *
“Miss Winthrop, I didn’t expect to see you today.” Miles holds a stylus over an oversized iPad when I enter his large, corner office. It’s a stunning space, with oak paneling and a wall of windows overlooking downtown. “Did I forget to write down a date?”
“Daisy said… Spencer told her you wanted to see my portfolio.”
“He did?”
Looking down at the oversized black folder in my hands, I’m starting to think Miles had nothing to do with my being here today.
“No worries.” He grins warmly. “I hate you made a special trip, though. Isn’t your portfolio online somewhere?”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, and embarrassment heats my cheeks. “That would probably be a smart idea. The truth is, I thought I was done with this type of work, so I never made time to scan it all—”
“Oh yes, we’re pulling you out of retirement.” He gives me a wink as he taps a button on his desk phone. “Spencer, can you join Miss Winthrop and me in my office?”
“Be right there.” Spencer’s rich voice fills the room, and my insides zing.
I squish that zing.
I’m more casual today in a short navy skirt and chambray shirt. Still, I anticipated seeing him, so I styled my hair and spent a little time on my makeup.
It’s all so completely ridiculous, because I have no intention of continuing any sort of romantic relationship with Mr. Carrollton.
Miles has the right idea keeping things formal. We should use last names.
The door opens, and my chest squeezes at the sight. He’s wearing a thin, black sweater that clings to his muscles and gray pants. He walks past me without a look and pauses at Miles’s desk. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
My breath tightens in my throat, and I blink twice before tearing my eyes away from his ass. I remember every detail, every line of muscle on his body, how his skin felt against mine.
“Take a seat and we’ll run through it. Or should we go to the conference room? Which would you prefer, Joselyn?” Miles smiles. “Do you mind if I call you Joselyn?”
So much for formalities.
“I don’t mind.” My voice seems too soft, too delicate, and the muscle in Spencer’s jaw moves. “It’s your call. We can go through the folder here or we can use one of the large tables to spread them out and look at the pictures all together.”
“I’m sure Daisy told you the Oceanside Hotel said yes.” Miles rocks back in the chair. “You’ve worked in their facilities. What would you recommend?”
Spencer’s eyes are fixed on my hands, which are now trembling as I turn the plastic-lined pages. Clearing my throat, I steel myself against his unfriendly demeanor.
“I’ve done so many different events… This is the first time I’ve done anything for antique dealers.”
“They’re just as banal and boring as everyone else, I assure you.” Miles is a friendly counterbalance to the glacier standing beside me.
“Okay…” I hesitate at a photo of a palm sculpture. “If I at least had an idea of what type of theme you were wanting.”
Miles shifts in his chair. “I had hoped you or Daisy could take the lead on that. Themes aren’t really my strong suit.”
“He’s more of an idea guy.” Spencer turns, and I jump back, nearly knocking my folder off the desk. He catches it, still not smiling. “Tell you what, I’ll take Joselyn to my office, and we can go through this and pull something together.”
“Brilliant!” Miles smiles broadly, clapping his hands and rising.
“I don’t mind working something up for you on my own—”
“I have some ideas I’d like to discuss.” Spencer’s voice is firm, and he meets my gaze at last.
His hazel eyes are flat, and I feel very small looking up at him, even though I’m four inches taller than Miles. I feel like I could hide behind him.
“Okay.” My voice is subdued.
“I like this plan.” Miles motions us to the door. “Spencer has impeccable taste. I can’t wait to see what you two come up with.”
My portfolio is in Spencer’s hands, and I study his broad shoulders as he strides out of the office and down the hall. I can see the muscles rippling through that sweater. He’s powerful and arrogant, and what the hell am I doing here?
“Chivalry is dead.” Miles chuckles, breaking the spell. “His office is just at the other corner there. The north and the south.”
“Warmth versus freezing?”
“Something like that. He won’t win Mr. Congeniality, but he’s hardly ever wrong.”
Squaring my shoulders, I decide I made this bed and had sex in it. I can meet this challenge head-on. Hell, Spencer being cool and professional is exactly the right approach to get things back on track. I have no idea why he summoned me here today, but he said I could always tell him to stop, and he would.
Hopefully he’s better at keeping his word than I am.
Chapter 8
Spencer
“These pieces should work.” I flip the oversized pages, stopping at a photo spread of life-sized floral sculptures of a couple dancing in Regency attire. “Since that show on Netflix, everyone is into this royal type of thing. Or maybe it’s since that Oprah interview.”
“This is actually Belle and Prince Adam.”
“I’m not familiar with them.”
“Beauty and the Beast?” Her blue eyes flicker up at me, and when they meet mine, my stomach tightens in a way I don’t like.
She looks amazing, and I’m pissed I still want to fuck her. She’s also being very polite and professional—as am I.
“I did this for the high school prom one year, ‘Tale as Old as Time.’”
“Was it for your high school prom?”
“No, I was in college at that point. I needed the money.”
Clearing my throat, I step away from her hair and its scent of magnolia. It reminds me of how it bounced in soft waves around my arms when I drove my dick into her from behind.
“Go with that. Miles will think he’s in a Disney movie. Hell, they all will.” Morons.
“So Regency romance.” She taps on her phone. “Should we tell them to dress in period attire?”