Instead, I’d gotten a curt apology. Like he had belched in my presence instead of hand delivering an amazing orgasm. That thought made me laugh. And when the laugh bubbled up, it could not be repressed—much like Mr. Darcy’s feelings. The laugh gurgled up and over like lava spilling from a volcano.
Soon, I was laughing so hard I was crying, and the more my hilarity increased, the grumpier he got. It started with a frown, then he squeezed the steering wheel, shifting in his seat. Meanwhile, I was wiping tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. By the time I managed to calm down, he’d affected a full-blown scowl.
“So that’s what I get for my apology?”
“Oh, that was an apology? ‘Sorry, ma’am, for the orgasm. It won’t happen again.’ Is that your usual MO? Did Sexilicious Sondra get an apology from you after you cuffed her to the bed and made her scream your name?”
Now he was red-faced and shooting me a glare out of the corner of his eyes. “That is not what I meant. I meant that it wasn’t appropriate given our professional relationship.”
“Yes, Mr. Fawkes, you are very inappropriate. And now, thanks to Essie’s training, I know how to tell you that.”
“We’re here. Thank God.”
I glanced up and saw the sign for the Santa Barbara exits, then bit my lip before I started laughing again.
“What now?” he said as he flipped on the signal to change lanes.
“You still have to sit in the car with me all the way home. Maybe you’ll get some more text messages that I can read to you.”
I stared out the window again, attempting to control my laughter. Santa Barbara was a picturesque little city curved around a sparkling blue bay. Houses climbed toward the back hills, called “morrows” here. It was cultured, sophisticated and a great place for the city-bound to get away for the weekend. But we weren’t here for a romantic getaway, as much as the idea of doing something like that with the car’s other occupant might have had me feeling warm and fuzzy inside.
No, we were here for a stuffy business meeting.
Minutes later, we were in the parking lot of the investment banker’s office. Jordan got out and procured his suit jacket from where it hung on a hook in the back seat so it wouldn’t wrinkle. He proceeded to slip it on his broad shoulders and button it up, straightening his tie.
“Should I wait in the car or…?”
He made a face like I’d suggested I go dance around on the curb like one of those human billboards. “No. You’re coming inside as my assistant. Do you want to learn this shit, or are you just some trust fund brat going through the motions ‘til Daddy delivers you a fat wad of cash to live on?”
My eyes narrowed at him and my cheeks flamed. That was below the belt. His lips curved in a slight smile, as if he were satisfied with himself that he’d baited me. I’d let my feelings show that time. I was usually better at hiding them, but he seemed to bring out the worst in me—and what’s worse, he did it almost effortlessly.
I swallowed the irritation and glared heat-seeking missiles—daggers would not suffice—into his back as I followed him through the glass doors.
Within minutes, Jordan was introducing me to the banker, Wallace Holden, one of the team of bankers who would fund the initial set of shares for Draco’s IPO. As I took my seat, I watched Jordan smoothly sit down and unbutton his coat in one fluid motion. I pulled out my notebook and poised my pen over a blank page, ready to take notes or create a bulleted action list or do something that might make me appear more like an official assistant.
Despite his formal dress, Jordan affected a casual posture, sitting back and resting an ankle across his opposite knee. With a grin, he began to chat up Wallace—whom he called Wally.
“So I saw that your boy’s baseball team made State. He must be over the moon. Are the scouts coming around for a possible scholarship? Heard he’s got an amazing arm.”
Jordan knew stuff about Wally’s kids, his wife—even his last golf game. I watched him under my lashes. He was a smooth operator. They spent twenty minutes talking about Wally and his life, and Jordan seemed intensely interested in all of it. In the end, they only spent ten minutes on business.
“So what’s the status on your initial public offering?” Wally finally asked.
“We’re a go,” Jordan beamed. “My CEO couldn’t be more excited.”
Wally’s brows twitched in surprise. “I’ve heard your CEO is a little…tight on the reins. Is he going to give us anything more than a tiny slice of the shares to list with?”