We are happily married.

Happily in love.

That’s what they think.

But it’s bullshit.

THREE

Angelina

Lunch didn’t work out, however I did get Mr. Boyd to join me for dinner.

Neil took off to handle some business, catching the soonest flight home.

We’d spent nearly six hours cooped up in Mr. Boyd’s office, waiting for Quarter to return the calls. Around 6:35 PM, Mr. Boyd’s telephone rang and he sat up straight, looking at me before staring at the telephone.

I urged him to pick up with a bob of my head and insistent eyes. He was just as nervous.

Never had it taken so long for someone to agree to join us. It was usually an easy kill, but Quarter had taken a toll on both of our minds.

Mr. Boyd answered, going on with a, “Yes. Of course. Are you sure?” And when I saw that bright smile sweep across his lips, I knew. I knew we had it. I beamed, bouncing out of my chair and clasping my hands, way to eager for answers.

“We’re in?” I asked, way too ecstatically.

Mr. Boyd lifted a finger, but a smile still graced his lips.

“Of course. That’s perfect. I can fly out Sunday morning. Thanks, Chris. See you soon.”

He didn’t have to tell me we had the deal. By the way his whiskey eyes sparkled and his mouth played cute tricks of a smile, I knew. And I bounced. “Holy shit. We got it? We got it!”

Mr. Boyd nodded, stepping around his desk. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Shit, I have to admit, I didn’t think we did. They were too damn hesitant.”

“No—no, you did great! Really great! Like I said, we couldn’t have done this without you, Mr. Boyd. Without your skills we wouldn’t have closed that deal.”

“You think so?” He raked thick fingers through his bronze tresses. I got the sense that it’d been quite some time since he received a compliment, better yet any kind of words to stroke his ego. “I don’t know what it was about them. I read over the papers over a dozen times, my speeches to them were clear. I made nothing seem questionable. For a while I thought it was me that might’ve fucked up.”

No.” I grinned. “If anything it was probably Neil’s impatient ass.” We laughed. “Don’t worry. You did a fantastic job.”

I stepped back, chewing on the corner of my bottom lip.

I wobbled on my heels a bit, looking around the office as Mr. Boyd sat on the edge of his desk, facing me. He looked me over. He’d done this six times today. Yes, I counted. How could I not?

He is such a beautiful man. With silky bronze hair, cut and styled neatly, beautiful amber-whiskey eyes, and a wicked smile that made me want to quit my job just so I could drop my panties for him.

“So, I wasn’t kidding about that drink thing. I told you if this deal went through drinks would be on me. Maybe we can do dinner and drinks?”

Mr. Boyd sat up straight, his head going into a slight tilt. “You don’t have a flight to catch?”

“I do, but I can always catch a later one. Come on!” I said, reaching for his hands. “We should celebrate this deal! And then rub it in Neil’s face over the drinks! It’ll be fun!” I squeezed his hands, wiggling my brows.

He dropped his head, fighting the most childlike smile I’d ever seen from a man. “Ahh… I don’t know, Miss. Clark. I should get home. I wasn’t even supposed to come into work today.”

I dropped his hands, remembering that he also had a life outside of working.

Unlike me, he had a spouse. He had a place he could truly call home. I traveled a lot. I never settled into one place for longer than a year.

As soon as my leases were over, I’d move elsewhere. I loved the idea of fresh, new things. I loved tasting things I’d never had—devouring whatever I could get my hands on.

“Oh, right. Shoot, I completely forgot.” I waved a hand. “You’re right.” I laughed with unease, stepping back.

Mr. Boyd folded his arms, looking me over again. His eyes locked on me, and for a moment I caught sincerity running deep in them.

“You know what?” He pushed off the desk and went for his cellphone. He packed his briefcase, tucked his cellphone into his pocket, and then walked back around the desk. He stopped only inches away from me, looking down with a soft smile. “Let’s go grab some dinner. We deserve it after today, right?”

“You sure?” I asked.

“Positive.” He walked past me to get to the door. Pulling it open, he bobbed his head to the side, gesturing for me to come along. “Come on.”

I grinned, picking up my purse and folders and then walking out. Mr. Boyd trailed behind me, so close I could smell his cologne. Strong. Earthy. Sweet. As he locked the door behind him, I said, “I would hate to get you into trouble with your wife. If you have somewhere to be you should really go.”

He laughed at that statement. “I’m sure my wife is busy doing other things. Things that are far more important than waiting up for me.”

He turned, locking eyes with me. “This is still business, I assure you.” His face was stern. Serious. “We have future plans to discuss with Quarter. I know a great restaurant right off the shore. Great scenery, wonderful seafood. And no, this will not be your treat.” He winked at me, and then he walked by to get to the elevator. “You do like seafood, right?”

I spun on my heels, watching him walk away. God, he was perfect.

That ass in those tailored pants.

His hair so smooth all I wanted to do was run my fingers through it.

How his wife couldn’t be waiting for him to get back home confused the hell out of me.

Mr. Boyd had it all, and I don’t just mean on the exterior. I was sure he had the package of a lifetime. I could see the outline of it whenever he walked, how it bulged against his zipper.

He looked back, expecting an answer with quirked brows.

“You kidding?” I breathed. “I love seafood.” I caught up with him at the elevator doors and grinned.

I grinned because I was certain Mr. Boyd never got too close with the people he worked with—not outside of work.

But tonight was different. He was fed up with his home life. I could tell it was bothering him.

He wasn’t happy and, strangely, I wanted to fix that.

If a few drinks over dinner could help, then so be it. Drinks and dinner it was.

So here we are, chatting, drinking, eating, and laughing about how rattled we were about cutting it so close with Quarter.

Mr. Boyd—well, Griffin as he’d prefer me to call him—has had three or four beers now and is a bit bubbly.

He sticks his fork into his shrimp linguini, peering towards the sunset. “No joke, that was wild. Three weeks to make that one stick. I couldn’t focus on anything else outside of it.” He leans in, like he’s about to share a secret. “Do you know how much money we are going to make from this?”

“Oh, so much,” I say, before taking a sip of my wine. “They were playing hard to get. Don’t worry, it happens.”

“Hmm… I haven’t chased after anyone in a while. It’s probably why I got so caught up and frustrated about it.”

“Oh really?” I ask. “You should be chasing that woman of yours, silly.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “No, see, nothing I do is ever good enough for Colette.”

Colette. So that’s her name. “Well, what exactly do you do?” I inquire.

He lifts a hand, about to run a countdown on his manicured fingers. “Don’t even get me started. There are the times I buy her flowers, surprise her with new shoes, chocolate, a spa pass for a full day. And you know what she does? She flips shit. She’s all, ‘I hate flowers, Griffin. They die and wither’. Or, ‘I don’t like the spas you choose, they don’t care for their clients.’ Or worse, ‘I’m not eating the chocolate. Too many empty calories. Too many carbs. My salsa competition is next month, honey. Salsaaaaa!’” I bust out in a laugh and that brings a smile to his lips.