The Highest Bidder. Maureen Child

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see me every day.” Nerves plucked at her insides and Charlie fought to keep from showing them.

      “Yeah, but this way’s different,” he said. “We’re not in the office. We’re more like … friends.”

      She laughed and took a sip of her water. “Friends?”

      “Something wrong with that?”

      Oh, if he only knew. They weren’t friends. Friends didn’t make friends feel all hot and flustered and nervous. Friends didn’t inspire dreams that had her waking up in the middle of the night, reaching out for him. And friends most certainly didn’t spy on each other or have the power to fire each other for that matter.

      “I guess not,” she said because she could hardly repeat everything that had just raced through her mind.

      “Good. Because I’d like to take my ‘friend’ out to dinner tonight.”

       “What?”

      Five

      Vance had never been big on surprises.

      They usually didn’t work well for either the surpriser or the surprisee. He liked knowing what was coming, how he would handle it and exactly how any given situation would play out.

      His brother, Roark, was the exact opposite. Roark lived his life on the road, on the edge. He had a place to stay in town, but was hardly ever there. He didn’t like plans and lived for the rush of the new.

      Vance couldn’t imagine living like that. More than one woman in his life had suggested that he “loosen up.” Let go of his schedule long enough to enjoy himself more. But he enjoyed himself plenty and his relentlessly-adhered-to agenda kept everything straight.

      So no one was more astonished than he when he blurted out that invitation to dinner. Although, judging by the expression on Charlie’s face, she was running a close second in the shock department.

      He’d come here today not only to support Waverly’s, but to keep an eye on Charlie. See what she did, who she talked to. He hadn’t actually planned to ask her to dinner. Vance was well aware that having any kind of relationship with his assistant was problematic at best and a disaster in the making at worst.

      But everything Roark had said kept resonating with him. Getting to know Charlie outside the office was one sure way to dig deeper. To find out all he could about her and discover if she was a spy or as innocent as she seemed.

      “Dinner?” Her voice rose. “With you?”

      He rolled his eyes. “No, with Justin.”

      She laughed a little. “I don’t think Justin’s wife would appreciate that.”

      “I don’t have a wife to care …” His gaze dropped to her left hand and the absence of a ring. “And you’re not married, either, so what’s the problem?”

      She curled her fingers into her palms and folded her hands on her lap. “You’re my boss.”

      “So if I say it’s okay, it should be.”

      “I don’t know,” she said, gaze shifting as if to make sure they were still alone in the break room.

      “It’s just dinner, Charlie,” he said, not even sure why he was trying so hard to convince her. Maybe it was simply because he wasn’t used to women turning him down. He was more accustomed to women flinging themselves at him. Charlotte Potter was different. “You have to eat.”

      She blew out a breath, unfolded her hands and tapped one finger nervously against the tabletop. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got Jake upstairs in day care and—”

      “We can take him with us.” He could hardly believe he’d said that. Spending time with a baby hadn’t been part of the plan. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen a baby. But he’d sensed a refusal coming and damn if he was going to give up that easily. He could deal. How hard could it be?

      She laughed shortly. “You want to have dinner with a baby in tow? You?

      Just a second ago, he’d been doubting his own sanity for the same reason, but somehow hearing her laugh at the very idea was insulting. “I haven’t eaten a child in at least a decade,” he said solemnly. “I think your son will be safe.”

      A smile was still curving the corners of her mouth. “He will, but will you survive?”

      “It’s dinner, Charlie. I think I can handle it.”

      “Mr. Waverly …”

      “Vance,” he corrected.

      She looked horrified, and Vance felt a rush of irritation.

      “I don’t think I can call you that.”

      He scowled at her. She wasn’t making this easy. He’d never had to work this hard to get a woman to spend time with him in his life. He had fully expected her to accept his invitation with a pleased smile and a gracious thank-you. Should have known, he told himself, that Charlie Potter wouldn’t do the expected.

      “I’m the boss,” he reminded her again, “so if I say you can, it’s okay.”

      “All right then, Vance.” She shook her head a little as if to dispel the weirdness of the moment. “As I said, I do appreciate it, but I just can’t imagine you spending time with a baby.”

      Irritation sparked inside him. He wasn’t a damn monster. So what if he was never around children? What difference did that make? Millions of people dealt with babies every day. Besides, he was Vance Waverly. There was nothing he couldn’t handle. “Rumor has it, I was actually a child once myself.”

      “Do they make suits that small?”

      He cocked his head and studied her. “Are you teasing me?”

      “A little bit,” she admitted.

      Vance couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. More surprising was the fact that he was sort of enjoying himself. Something else he hadn’t planned on.

      “That’s fine.” His gaze locked with hers, he said softly, “I can take it.”

      “Mr. Waverly—Vance,” she corrected herself before he could. “I don’t know what’s going on, but …”

      She was going to turn him down and, dammit, he wasn’t going to let her. He told himself he was doing this for Waverly’s, but the truth was more complicated than that. And he didn’t want to examine that any further.

      Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his knees and looked into her eyes. “Charlie, it’s just dinner. When you’re finished here, we’ll get your son and go get something to eat.”

      Narrowing her eyes on him, she said, “That sounds a lot like an order.”

      “Does it have to be?”

      She

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