Nothing. That’s right. Big, fat nothing. Liar.
I just wanted to complete this contract without a hitch. Was that too much to ask? I didn’t want any more kisses or touches or words whispered in my ear. I was tired of it. I wanted to do my job, and that was it, but he was...
Jesus, he was so goddamn irresistible. If I had to compare him, he’d be a hot bath at the end of a long day, fluffy socks in winter, and—no. I had it.
West Rykman was as irresistible as the undeniable, glorious sensation of whipping your bra off when you walk through your front door.
I sighed. Yep. I was screwed if I was comparing him to that. I’d compared men to many things—pigs, fuckers, slugs, assholes—but never whipping a bra off.
I had to marvel over the coincidence of this though. Of all the places in the US—in Vegas alone—it had to be his club. I wondered now if he had known that it was me when Michelle had called and told him I’d be there in her stead. If he had, why had he allowed it to happen?
It wasn’t for the sex, that was for sure. He’d gotten at least one number last night and all he had done was buy drinks.
I was bugged about that. If he remembered our night so well, surely the name “Mia” would have rung a bell or two. He would have checked his records and seen that I was there that night and that it was me.
I smiled at the girl when she brought my card back. Then I slipped it into my wallet and stuffed it into my purse. There was no use in my going to Rock Solid when I was frustrated. It was the perfect time to work—I needed to work on branding for the club. I loved the design aspect of my job. It wasn’t required, but I had the skills, so I utilized them. It saved us having to hire out someone else. I regularly did it for my coworkers too, and maybe that was it.
Design was calming to me. As long as any one of my Adobe products felt like cooperating.
That was my plan. I would work all day, and then tomorrow, when I was calmer, I’d go and talk with West.
Turned out working and sleeping on it wasn’t the key to calming down.
I was still as pissed as before. Not even drafting three new logos and typing up everything I’d found, not to mention coming up with new ideas, had helped. The idea that he had known who I was and still let me come annoyed me.
It was why I was stalking through the doors of Rock Solid at ten in the morning, dressed in my business best. I hoped that the tight, red skirt and white blouse complete with black heels would draw a line that’d been crossed when I had been wearing jeans and a loose shirt.
“Hi, Ms. O’Halloran. Are you looking for Mr. Rykman?” Vicky looked up from the glass she was polishing, as bubbly and friendly as she had been before.
“Hey, Vicky! Call me Mia, please. And yes—I am. Is he here?”
“I think so.” She paused in her cleaning. “I think he’s upstairs. Let me call up.” She put the glass and the cloth down and turned to get the phone. She punched in a few numbers then held it to her. “Hi, West... Yes, I know, but Mia O’Halloran is here to see you... Yes... Mhmm... Okay... Sure.” She hung up and turned to me. “He’s not in a great mood, but he said to send you up.” She waved over her shoulder as she walked to the door at the end of the bar.
I sneaked around the end of the bar and caught the door before it could swing shut.
“If you go down the hall, you’ll find the stairs on your right. The entire floor is an office, so you’ll find him right there.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much, Vicky.”
“You’re welcome.” She beamed and bounced back through the door to the bar.
Damn. I wanted what she had eaten for breakfast.
I held the handrail as I headed upstairs. This time, I was armed with my laptop as well as a file. If he liked any of the logos or branding but wanted some changes, I’d wanted to be able to do it with him in real time.
It was also heavier to hit him over the back of his cocky head with, but nobody else needed to know that.
When I reached the top, the door was slightly ajar, so I knocked lightly. “Hello?”
“Mia? Is that you?” West’s voice traveled through the air.
It was unnerving how quickly we’d gone from Mr. Rykman and Ms. O’Halloran to West and Mia.
“Yes,” I answered. “Vicky sent me up.”
“Sure, come in.” He opened a door, a phone pressed to his chest with the mouthpiece covered. “I’m just finishing up this call.”
I nodded and pushed the door back almost closed as he crossed the room and then dropped into a large leather chair and said, “Sorry, I’m back. Go on.”
I held my purse close to me and looked around the room. It was spacious—at least half the size of the club downstairs, and one wall was entirely compromised of desk space. There were numerous cupboards beneath the top, but three chairs were lined up in various places. Large, brand-new computers peeked out from behind the black chairs, and there were noticeboards with all manner of things pinned up and hanging between the windows.