Page 26 of Handle Me

Even if the memory of it kept creeping into my mind at the most inconvenient times.

Of course, the suit that had been rush-delivered from the tailors at Barnaby’s was equally likely to stimulate my own mixed feelings—or rather, mixed hormones. Tonight would be good for us. We both needed to learn how to be together without fighting or flirting.

I dropped a few things into a Chanel clutch, took a breath, and opened the bedroom door. I hadn’t given Anders a set time. I suspected we didn’t need a reservation at even the fanciest restaurant around. Anders was a celebrity whether he liked it or not. That meant doors opened to him, as did tables. I opened my phone and began to text him that I was ready when a low voice interrupted me.

“Hey, boss.”

“Shit!” I startled, dropping my phone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He stepped into the darkened corridor and my mouth fell open. I’d seen him in the suit earlier, but this was different. His blond hair was swept back and his face cleanly shaven.

It seemed that even guys shaved for fake dates. I made a mental note to tell my mother Anders was also a shitty feminist.

I looked him over, telling myself it was part of the job. I was teaching him how to be a gentleman, right? But as my eyes traveled down, I gasped when I saw what he was holding.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ANDERS

This wasn’t a date. Not a real one. So why was I standing here, holding a dozen pink roses? I’d had no idea what was taking her so long. I’d gone by the florist, gotten home, shaved, showered, and put on the new suit I’d found lying on my bed, and she was still in there. What did women do in the loo that took forever? And then it had hit me. She was avoiding me. Lola had been cured of whatever insanity had prompted her to insist on a date—even a fake one—this evening. I’d made up my mind to toss them in the bin before Lola saw when the door to the spare room opened.

Or maybe she had just been busy transforming herself into every dirty dream I’d ever had, because as soon as I saw her I could only process two words.

Fuck me.

The dress she was wearing was probably illegal in half the villages in Britain. It barely covered the perfect ass I’d been daydreaming about all day. Maybe it was the way her dark hair billowed past her shoulders that made her look softer. But this wasn’t the no-nonsense, sexy as sin business woman who had walked onto my track yesterday.

She was so preoccupied with tossing things into a small black bag that she didn’t even realize I was here. I swallowed and decided to take Wilkes’ advice. This might not be a date, but I could drive her a little crazy.

Especially if she was going to show up looking like that.

“Hey boss,” I said softly.

“Shit!” She jumped and dropped her phone in the process.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I took a step closer to help her but thought better of it.

A gentleman would bend down and pick up her phone. But I wasn’t a gentleman—or so she’d been telling me—and I wanted to see how short her skirt really was. She stared at me for a moment, phone forgotten on the floor, and I realized I must look like an idiot standing here holding flowers for a woman who’d made it clear she had no interest in me.

Lola shook her head a little. Then she bent gracefully at the knees and swiped her mobile from the floor. That was disappointing.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked, immediately putting on her bossy, businesslike tone. “You could have knocked.”

On second thought, maybe it was good she hadn’t bent over and revealed her rear end. I might not have been able to stop myself from spanking her. My palm twitched at the thought of bending perfect Miss Bishop over my knee and showing her that she underestimated me.

“These are for you.” I thrust the flowers at her.

She took them, chewing on her bottom lip. For a second, I could have sworn I glimpsed a smile. “Anders, you didn’t have to do this. Tonight isn’t really—”

“I know,” I cut her off. “But you seem to be laboring under the misunderstanding that I’m a hopeless caveman in need of rescue. I thought I would prove that I can be a gentleman when I want to be.”

We stared at each other for a minute, each waiting for the other to make their next move. Finally, she tucked her black bag under her arm and smiled.

“Do you have a vase?” she asked, smelling the blooms.

“Um…” I had not thought of that. “I don’t usually bring flowers home.”

“Fair enough.” She skirted past me toward the kitchen. “Let’s see what we can find.”