I cross my eyes and stick my tongue out. “I know, right?”
Because that’s precisely the point.
This idea is so wild, so unexpected, so left of center, Maverick won’t see it coming.
And that’sexactlywhy it just might work.
“What are you doing here?” Maverick asks.
I’m perched at one end of his desk with a laptop open in front of me, bright and early the next morning. I’m not wasting any time implementing my genius idea.
I aim the sweetest smile I’m capable of at him and reply, “I thought we could discuss ways to reduce veterinary expenses.”
As he approaches his desk, he comes into sharper focus, the charcoal slim-fit jacket he’s wearing wrapping snugly around his shoulders.
“You do?” he asks, dropping his leather briefcase beside his desk.
He unbuttons his jacket and drapes it neatly over the back of his chair. Despite owning the place for over a month now, forsome odd reason, he hasn’t given up wearing a suit. His biceps flex under the navy-blue cotton of his shirt as he props his hands on his hips, curiosity flickering across his face.
“I do. I checked your diary and saw you’re free this morning, but if now isn’t convenient for you, we can reschedule this meeting for another time if you prefer.”
He drops into his seat and shakes his head, as if he’s trying to make sense of things. “Diary? Meeting? Reschedule? Why are you using professional words?”
“Isn’t this what you wanted, Maverick?” I ask, leaning forward, my voice bordering on overbearingly syrupy. “To be professional?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “But?—”
“But what?” I steeple my fingers for possibly the first time ever in my life.
“You’re scaring me.”
Excellent.
I test the limits of my smiling ability, stretching my lips to show as many teeth as I can. I might be pulling it off, or I might look deranged. Too early to tell. “Oh. Why is that?”
“For starters, you’re smiling. That’s…unsettling. Then there’s your voice. You sound like a news anchor who’s popped one too many Prozacs. Then, let’s see, what else? The fact that you’re here, in my office, using a laptop, wanting to discuss reducing costs, I’m…I’m confused.”
“There’s no need to be confused. It’s really quite simple,” I reply sensibly. “Our veterinary bills are through the roof. I think it’s time we discuss partnering with a clinic and negotiating a service level agreement.”
Maverick’s jaw falls slack. “What is happening here? None of this makes any sense.”
Andthatis entirely the point.
I keep smiling at him as I prattle off more reasons why teaming up with a vet clinic makes economic sense.
From the moment I laid eyes on him outside Bunny’s, Maverick has done nothing but confuse me. He’s a rich, entitled asshole who makes it hard to keep thinking he’s a rich, entitled asshole because he doesn’t do typical rich, entitled asshole things.
He does sweet, considerate things like making soup for people when they’re sick. Or heartwarming things like hanging out with his adorable nephew. Or trust-building things like sticking to his word when he says he’s going to do something. Or lust-inducing things like filling my head with all sorts of unwanted images of what his body might look like underneath that corporate armor he insists on wearing every day.
I can’t allow my interest and attraction to him to go on unabated.
If I want to make it stick—really stick—that nothing can happen with Maverick and me, I’m going to have to bring out the big guns. Avoiding him at work hasn’t worked. Throwing up in front of him hasn’t worked. Heck, even acting like a rude jerk didn’t put him off.
In fact, that’s what earned me my first kiss.
And ourlastkiss.
I need to extinguish whatever this is between us because nothing more can come of it. And since everything else has failed, I’m going to have to resort to the one option I haven’t tried so far: I’m going to act professional, I’m going to be nice, and I’m going to kill Maverick Benson with kindness.
