Page 130 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

KATIE

G inny lounged on my king-sized bed with her chin propped up on her hands and her ankles crossed behind her. She swung her legs and flipped through a magazine splayed open in front of her while I wrapped half-inch strands of my hair around my curling rod and singed my fingertips repeatedly.

“Ouch,” I hissed, shaking out my hand as I burnt my finger again.

It had been too long since I bothered to put in this kind of effort where my hair was concerned.

On work days, I’d brush it, tie it up in a tight bun, and spray it down with hairspray until it was smooth and stiff as hell and most certainly not going to budge an inch.

But tonight was different.

Tonight would be the first date I’d gone on in almost two years.

My professional life didn’t leave much room for courting men or being courted by them. Normally, I would have blown a guy like Peter off. But there was something so disarmingly charming about him that when he suggested drinks I leapt at the offer.

“So what does this guy do for work?” Ginny asked as she tore her green gaze from the pages of the wedding magazine she was poring over.

“I don’t know actually.”

“How old is he?”

I bit my lip. “Not sure. Maybe thirty?”

Ginny frowned and sat up, tucking her legs under herself. “Where is he staying?”

“Also don’t know.”

“Do you know anything about this guy you’ve agreed to go on a date with?”

“I know he’s nice,” I said. “And he makes me laugh. And he’s really cute. I mean like really cute.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like Roman.”

As if on cue, Roman strode into my suite. He had an ice bucket in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He walked purposefully to my dresser, where four champagne flutes stood, and began filling them up.

He shot a dark look at Ginny. “Were you trash talking me to our boss?”

“No,” Ginny said innocently. “I was calling her shallow.”

“Oh.” Roman giggled delightedly. “Well in that case, carry on.”

I smiled as I doused my hair with hairspray and some dry shampoo for texture.

I scrunched and messed up the curls until I was satisfied with the rather wild, beach-hair look.

I spun around in my chair and accepted the glass of champagne from Roman, who looked me over from head to toe and back down again.

“Damn girl.” He whistled. “He must really be cute for you to go to all this effort. Are you wearing eyeliner?”

Blushing, I took a sip of champagne. “Maybe.”

Roman passed Ginny her glass of champagne and perched himself on the end of the bed beside her. “You gonna fuck him tonight?”

“No,” I said sharply.

Ginny gestured at him with an air of exhaustion. “I need a raise, Katie. Do you see what I have to put up with?”

Roman dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Prudes, the pair of you. How long has it been since you got some, Katie? Months?”

I licked my lips. “I hardly think it’s appropriate for me to talk about my sex life with my assistants.”

“Bitch, we’re your best friends. Don’t even try to convince us otherwise. Tell me.” Roman crossed one leg over the other and waited expectantly for an answer.

Katie sighed. “Months is generous.”

Roman gasped. “Baby, how many months are we talking about here?”

She swallowed. “Just shy of a dozen maybe?”

Roman handed his champagne to Ginny so he could clutch both hands to his heart like the drama queen he was.

“Oh my God, I can’t breathe. Twelve months ?

! No wonder you’re wound so tightly at work all the time.

You need a guy to give it to you the way you deserve.

From the front and the back and the side and—”

“Roman,” I said sternly.

He fell quiet but smiled devilishly at me.

Ginny handed his champagne back. “I’m not your side table.”

He giggled delightedly and sipped his champagne. “I’m so much more excited about this date now. I can’t wait to hear all about it. You need to snap a picture of this guy for me and Ginny. Right, Gin?”

Ginny nodded, for once agreeing with Roman. “I’d like to see what all the fuss is about.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure if I want to subject Peter to the levels of crazy that are in this room right now. He’s a nice, normal, friendly guy, okay? That’s all you need to know right now.”

“You said he was freakishly handsome,” Ginny said pointedly.

“A nice perk,” I said, “but not what drew me to him the most.”

Roman snickered. “Liar.”

“Okay fine,” I admitted. “At first, it was his looks. But honestly, he’s so attractive I assumed he’d be an ass, but he’s not.

He’s sweet. And a bit clumsy. And delightfully refreshing.

He didn’t put any moves on me. We had a good conversation on the drive to the hotel. He’s… I don’t know. He’s different.”

Roman sighed dreamily and leaned back against Ginny, reaching back to stroke her cheek. “Did you hear that, Gin? He’s dreamy .”

Ginny pressed a hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon. “Prince Charming has come to take you to the ball.”

My best friends were insufferable at the best of times. Tonight, they were on their A-game.

“Do you two ever get tired of annoying me?” I asked.

“No,” Ginny said.

“Never,” Roman added.

Ginny shimmied up to the edge of the bed and she and Roman held hands as I walked over to my closet and pulled the doors open. “Are you going to wear a dress?” she asked.

“I was thinking about it,” I said. “But we’re just going to The Wreck, so I could go casual too.”

“Wear a dress,” Roman said bossily.

I eyed him over my shoulder. “Why?”

He giggled deviously. “Because then you don’t have to wear panties, and if he drives you home, you can spread your legs a bit and—”

“Okay,” I said, turning back to the closet before he could finish that thought. “A dress is officially out of the running.”

“Poor sport,” Roman said.

Ginny fanned her cheeks. “Sometimes I wish you were straight, Roman. You’d be such a good boy toy.”

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you have no idea.”

The two of them giggled while I flipped through clothes in my closet. Nothing jumped out at me as the right thing to wear. I wanted to make a good impression and I wanted Peter to know I’d put in some effort to go out with him but I didn’t want to overdo it.

My fingers landed on the sleeve of a cute romper I’d ordered online and had never worn.

It was a muted olive-green color which complemented my tanned complexion.

I pulled it out and held it in front of me to get approval from my friends.

They both nodded agreeably, so I stripped out of my work dress and stepped into the jumpsuit.

Ginny zipped it up for me while Roman picked out a pair of shoes to go with it.

He opted for a pair of sandals because he knew how sore my feet were.

They were snakeskin print with a little gold braided strap that went around the ankle.

Next Roman grabbed me a pair of thick gold hoops and insisted I put them on.

When the look was done, I stood in front of my full-length mirror beside my dresser and liked what I saw.

“I hope he’s a good enough guy to deserve sitting down for drinks with a bad-ass bitch like you,” Roman said.

“Do you have a good feeling?” Ginny asked.

I nodded. “I do.”

My cab dropped me off outside The Wreck at five minutes to eight. By the time I stepped out of the car, my nerves had started to sink in. My stomach was swirling with butterflies and my fingertips were tingling.

I hadn’t felt nervous like this in a long time, not since I first met the author W. Parker, whocame to stay at the El Cartana for writing retreats on a regular basis. Apparently, it was a good place for productivity and minimizing distractions.

“It’s just drinks with a guy,” I told myself as I walked up to the front doors of the restaurant. “Nothing to get your panties in a twist about.”

The Wreck was a popular spot for locals just outside of the downtown hub of Cruz Bay.

Tourists came often, but they didn’t make up the majority of the customers like the other restaurants in town did.

It had a calm, peaceful vibe, with ukulele music, a ceiling strung with patio lights, and plenty of tropical plants in corners, on shelves, and hanging off the patio railings.

When I checked in with the hostess, she told me my companion had already arrived, and she led me through the maze of tables out to the back patio that overlooked the ocean and beach down below.

I spied Peter sitting at a table in the corner. His back was to me, so he didn’t see me coming. The butterflies in my stomach took flight.

His back was broad and strong. He sat with his elbows on the table and his head slightly turned to the side so he could gaze out at the ocean as the sun shone bright orange as it dipped nearly behind the horizon.

His profile was painted in amber light and his hair was styled back off his face.

He’d put in effort for this evening, too.

His back muscles pulled at the fabric of his shirt, and as I got closer, I spied the veins on the inside of his arms all the way down to his wrists.

He wore a bracelet I hadn’t noticed when we met in the market, and I wondered if he’d had it on then.

It was a simple black leather band fitted with volcanic beads and one turquoise one.

I arrived at the table and he looked up at me.

A smile stretched his cheeks. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He stood. His thighs bumped the table. It rocked forward and the two iced waters promptly spilled over, scattering ice all over the patio and soaking the napkins, my bare legs, and my feet.

Peter turned red.

I covered my mouth with my hand and tried not to laugh.

It was impossible.