Shifting the Night Away (9 page)

"Too fancy for me.
 
Do you like kebabs?"

"I am a big fan of meat."

"Afghan kebabs it is then.
 
The rice and naan bread are amazing too."

"I have a car waiting.
 
Shall we go now?"
 
He motioned towards a black sedan parked next to the curb.

"It’s too early for dinner and I’m all scrubby from playing with the children all day."

"You actually look fantastic.
 
We can swing by and take a tour of our offices beforehand … where we steal the souls."

"So, it’s an office?
 
I pictured it being more of a giant dome surrounded by flames and people carrying pitchforks."

"I wouldn’t be surprised if some of my assistants weren’t little devils during their days off, but most of the time it’s just an office full of semi-snarky people."

"This is supposed to make me want to work with them?"

"Treat them like fifth graders and you’ll be fine."

"I think I can handle that," Mia said.
 
"Let me grab my stuff."

Charles wore dark sunglasses, but it didn’t look as if she recognized him from the park.
 
She gave a smile and strong handshake when they were introduced.
 

"Will he be joining us?"

"He prefers to be stealthy and in the background."

"I could have used a bodyguard when I first started teaching," she said with a laugh.

Charles dropped them off at the front entrance.
 
Mia was always terrible at navigating through revolving doors and never managed to get the timing right.
 
She wound up crammed into the same section with Peter dancing a sort of Conga behind him with her hands on his hips.

"Sorry.
 
I’m a klutz.
 
That’s why I cheat on the blacktop."

Peter laughed and said, "Don’t apologize.
 
I’ve smacked my face into a few of these not realizing they were locked in place."

"Well, you don’t look any worse for wear," she said while examining his face.
 
"Not even a blemish.
 
What’s your secret?"

"Long runs through Central Park," Peter said as he guided her to the bank of elevators.

"That sounds nice … except for the running.
 
I love sitting on Summit Rock, though."

"I know."

"What?"

"Umm … I know what you mean.
 
That’s a very peaceful spot."

The elevator doors opened on the forty-sixth floor, revealing a floor full of cubicles and offices with people zipping about in various speeds of urgency.
 
Peter stood in the center and maneuvered his arms like a skilled flight attendant.

"The design team is over there.
 
Marketing is that way."
 
He nodded towards the corner office.
 
"That’s me."
 
He motioned for her to follow, which went well until she was distracted by the activity around her and almost repeated her Conga line performance.
 
His back felt strong and muscular when she ricocheted off.

"Sorry.
 
I need to watch where I’m walking."

Peter didn’t mind.
 
He quite enjoyed feeling her body against his.
 
"Totally understandable.
 
There’s a lot going on here."

When he opened the office door, she made a beeline for the windows.
 
"Look at this view!
 
It’s like a shag carpet of trees down there."

"You should see my roof garden.
 
It’s my own Central Park."

"Roof garden?
 
I’m in the wrong line of work," Mia joked.

Peter walked to his desk and picked up his office phone.
 
"Daphne, would you mind rolling in some of the samples?
 
Thank you."
 
He turned back towards Mia and gestured for her to sit on a long, leather sofa placed a few feet in front of one of the huge windows.
 
"I came up with these designs myself.
 
I want your honest opinion only, no lying."

"I can’t lie.
 
I wasn’t born with a poker face."
 
Mia scrunched up her face like she smelled something rotten.
 
"If I make this face, you’ll know I hate it."

A light tapping on the door signaled Daphne’s arrival.
 
The clothing rack entered first, providing cover for the petite frame struggling to roll it on the carpet.
 
"This is everything," she announced.

Peter pulled the rack and rolled it in place, revealing his assistant who had now pulled a notepad out of her side pocket.
 
"I don’t have any notes today.
 
I just wanted the model to see the samples.
 
This is the diamond girl we discussed," he said, smiling in Mia’s direction.

Daphne cocked her head to the side and twisted her lip.
 
"Oh, so you wanted an everyday Jane?"

Mia stood up and walked towards her with an outstretched hand.
 
"Everyday Mia, actually.
 
Nice to meet you."
You everyday twat.

"Hmm," Daphne said as she crossed her arms and stared at Mia.
 
"Some of the dresses have elastic—"

"That will be all, Daphne," Peter ordered.

"You don’t want me to help?"

"Not unless you’d like to spend your days in the mailroom."

Mia smirked and crossed her arms.
 
"Hmm."
 
She watched Daphne exit and released a loud sigh.
 
"Definitely a devil on her days off, but she just confirmed my initial assumption that you need your eyes checked."

"She came with the company," Peter explained.
 
"I’ve built up these brands, so I know what the fuck I’m talking about and YOU are what I’m missing."
 
Realizing his Freudian slip and not wanting to scare her off, he quickly added, "From the campaign.
 
You are what I’m missing from the campaign."

Mia was irritated with herself.
 
She normally didn’t let rude people get to her, but she was embarrassed at her reaction and the fact that Peter had been a witness.
 
She walked towards the rack and crossed her arms lightly.
 
"How about a rain check?" she asked.

Peter’s face dropped.
 
"Well, just look at this stuff.
 
I picked the highest quality lace and fabrics."

She nodded her head in agreement.
 
"It’s all beautiful.
 
Really beautiful.
 
I should get going, though."

He took a step towards the door to block her path.
 
"Okay, forget this stuff.
 
How about we just grab dinner?
 
A little birdy told me about some amazing kebabs."

Mia was about to shake her head when she heard young Thomas’ voice reminding her she was getting
older and older and older all by herself
.
 
She smiled and said, "On the condition that we don’t discuss my foray into modeling."

"Deal."
 
He held out his hand, but instead of shaking hers, he pulled her closer and looped her arm through his elbow.
 
"Kebabs for the lady."

They remained linked all the way past the prying eyes of the assistants and back into the black sedan.
 
Mia liked being next to him.
 
His bicep was firm and easy to hold onto.
 
She wondered what he was really after.
 
Booty calls just weren’t her thing.
 
Settling wasn’t her thing.
 
This guy?
 
This could be a thing … if he were really interested.
 
She’d never felt insecure about her curves before.
 
They were a source of power for her, reinforcing all the feminine strength running through her veins.
 
She’d never put herself on display, though, instead choosing the quiet life of a teacher.
 
A model?
 
He probably did just want to get in her pants.
 
The more she stared at his face and watched his lips move as he spoke to her, the more appealing a booty call became.
 
But he’d have to work for it.
 
Even with those chocolate-colored eyes, chiseled chin, broad shoulders and muscular chest, he would absolutely have to work for it … but maybe not as hard as she originally thought.
 
She unconsciously licked her lips as she stared at him.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"What?
 
Oh, yes … um, famished."
 
She brought a hand up and lightly fanned herself in response to the heat now building in her.

"Is it too warm?"

She shook her head and stared down at her feet before speaking.
 
"I just want to apologize for earlier.
 
I hope I didn’t come off as rude.
 
I’ve never been mistaken for a Cindy Crawford or the like, so the whole idea seemed very foreign to me."

He crossed his arms and made a loud buzzer sound.
 
"Off limits.
 
We aren’t supposed to talk about that.
 
What do you think about this weather we’re having?"

Mia covered her face and laughed.

"But since you broke the rules first," he continued.
 
"You weren’t rude, Daphne was, so don’t even think about apologizing.
 
And for what it’s worth, Cindy Crawford’s got nothin’ on you."

Now Mia crossed her arms and made the loud buzzer sound.

"I’m serious," he said.
 
"Your curves are out of this world.
 
You have a real life with real joy that glows from within.
 
You’re just real."

"I’m an everyday Mia."

"You’re everyday beautiful."

She looked back at her feet again and blushed.
 
"Yes, this is nice weather we’re having."

Peter laughed and nudged her with his elbow.
 
"And did I mention your curves are out of this world?"

"Oh shush," she nudged back.

The restaurant was nearly full when they arrived.
 
Amir, the owner, placed them at a small table in the window.

"Only the best table for you," he said as he embraced her with a bear hug.

"I eat here all the time," she explained.

"Good," Peter said while examining the menu.
 
"You can order for me."

"We will both be having lamb tikka.
 
How do you like yours cooked?" she asked.

"Raw."
 
He saw her tilt her head from the corner of his eye.
 
"I mean, medium-rare."

After the order was placed and the menus removed, she leaned into the table and excitedly placed her hand on his forearm.
 
He rest his other hand on top of hers not even realizing he’d done so until he noticed the feel of her soft skin under his palm.
 
He lightly brushed his thumb along her skin, relishing the sensation.

"I have the perfect gift idea for Principal Johnson," she said, trying to focus on her words and not the heat from his hand over hers.
 
"A traditional letterman’s jacket with the school colors and his name stitched on the back.
 
Can you design one?"

"Of course.
 
You have the school spirit market cornered."

"I just love my kids."

"What would you do if you weren’t teaching?"

"Probably die."

"Really?"

"You know how bikers have
Ride or Die Bitches
?
 
I’m starting the club for
Teach or Die Bitches
."

Peter covered his mouth as he laughed, but it caused him to remove his top hand which left Mia wishing she hadn’t been so amusing.

"What would you do … instead of watching models pose in lingerie and enjoying the view from your amazing building?"
 
Mia rolled her eyes in feigned disgust.

"Well, when you put it that way," he smiled.
 
"Believe it or not, I wouldn’t mind moving to a cabin in the snow and living off the land with my family.
 
Maybe add a few rugrats of my own."

He made sure to look directly at her to test her reaction.
 
She didn’t even blink.
 
Her pupils dilated at the thought which made him want to reach across the table and scoop her up.
 
Their staring contest continued until Amir developed warm plates of food in front of them.

"Dig in," she instructed.
 
"Add the hot sauce and dip into the yogurt if you’re a wuss and the spice is too much."