I look out the window before turning back to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He narrows his eyes, not believing me. “What has you so distracted, woman? You’re all over the place.”
“Nothing,” I insist, but my voice is weak.
He shakes his head. “You’re so full of shit; it’s coming out your ears.” He laughs. “We should probably get back to the office. I have a call at nine with a prospective client. Some Hollywood heartthrob bullshit.”
“Oohhh.” I wag my eyebrows at him. Rowan hates the celebrity clientele, where I, on the other hand, love them. “I have to grab a coffee to go,” I mumble as I slide off the stool and balance myself on my heels.
“A coffee to go, for your lapse in judgment?” He smirks, making air quotes.
I nod and smile. “Oh and my lapse in judgment told me to tell you good morning.”
He sighs. “Good God, I love that man. Either you grab onto him like a spider monkey or I’m going to.” Rowan fans his face and grabs his coffee from the table.
After ordering Holt’s coffee, we hustle back to the office to arrive by nine. Rowan nudges me in the shoulder, and I take a left to head toward Holt’s office.
“Proud of you, girl.” He winks and takes off down the other hall where our offices are.
I stand and square my shoulders, lifting my chin confidently, except I’m terrified. I whisper to myself, “I’m just delivering a coffee. His secretary does this every day. This is not a big deal.” My little pep talk does nothing to calm my nerves, but it’s now or never. My feet carry me past a wall of small offices—finance, accounting, all the numbers people. I nod and force a stiff smile at a man who passes me in the hall.
At the end of the hallway is Holt Hamilton’s office. His administrative assistant, Joyce, sits at a small desk just outside his office door and types away quickly at the computer. The glass walls of the office allow me to see him. He sits with his back to the wall, his attention focused on the Chicago cityscape just outside the exterior office windows.
I stop at Joyce’s desk and take another deep breath. I try to still my racing heart, but it’s no use, my voice cracks. “Mrs. King? I have a coffee delivery for Mr. Hamilton.”
She looks up from her computer and over the top of her glasses and smiles at me. Her salt and pepper hair is perfectly trimmed into a blunt bob, and her face looks like it’s seen every plastic surgeon in town. It’s pulled tight and not a wrinkle to be found. She’s very attractive and put together for a woman who looks as though she should be retired.
“Ah, Ms. Phillips. Yes. Mr. Hamilton mentioned you’d be stopping by.”
“Here.” I shove the paper cup at her, and I notice my hand shaking. “It’s just as he requested.”
Joyce looks at me and pushes her chair away from the desk. Standing up, she rounds the desk and taps lightly on Holt’s door. He spins around in his large leather chair and gestures for Joyce to send me in.
She slowly opens the door to the sound of the speakerphone, and a man’s gruff voice fills the large office. There’s a small conference room table off to the right and Holt sits behind a large cherry wood desk. “Go on,” she urges me inside the office, then smiles at us and closes the door quietly behind me.
“Mr. Marquez. Unfortunately, I have an emergency that I need to tend to. Let me call you back as soon as I get this resolved.” Holt is speaking to the man on the other end of the line, but his eyes are fixed on me. Before Mr. Marquez even has time to reply, Holt cuts the line and sits back in his chair, his hands resting on the edge of his desk.
With a smirk, he pulls his hands in front of his face and steeples his fingers, pressing them to his bottom lip. “Ms. Phillips, thank you for delivering my coffee this morning.”
“Mr. Hamilton,” I cock my head to the side, “it’s been a pleasure.” I walk over to the desk and set the coffee down in front of him. “Is there anything else I can get you this morning or shall I get back to work? I have two high-priority clients waiting on me to customize their aircraft.”
He grins at me. “That’ll be all for now, but please make sure your calendar is free at twelve-thirty. Block about ninety minutes.”
My eyes widen in surprise, and I smack my lips. “Very well. Enjoy your coffee.” I spin around on my heel and walk toward the closed office door.
“Ms. Phillips?” He stops me in my tracks, just as my hand grips the door handle.
“Yes?” I ask over my shoulder, turning slightly so I can see him.
“That dress is my favorite. It leaves very little to the imagination.” He picks up his coffee and presses the plastic lid to his mouth, but it does very little to hide his devious smile.