I school my features so I don’t look astounded. “I’ll look for a few days you can work from Maui in the next few weeks. I have the next tournament on the calendar, tentatively set for next month. However, with Cecelia’s death, that will likely change.”
He nods. “I’m in the mood for a good steak. How about you make us a reservation at Morton’s or Ruth’s Chris? Whichever one can seat us at eight.”
“I’ll make sure Valerie is there,” I say as I walk out.
“No. You and me. No Valerie. Definitely not Valerie.”
I’ve learned that if he’s determined, there’s no stopping him. So, I’m better off just letting him have his way. “If this is your way of making sure someone drives me home, I get it. You don’t have to buy me dinner.”
“You know my net worth better than I do. It’s not a financial hardship for me to make sure you’re safe. In fact, look at it as my own self-preservation. If this psycho scares you off, I’ll have to find someone half as good as you are, and that would be near impossible. I’ll let Brian know when we’ll be leaving.”
I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’m not fighting it. It’s not worth the argument.”
***
That evening, when we arrive at Morton’s, they seat us in a prime location. It’s the spot to be seen, which also means we’re interrupted a dozen times.
A creepy man approaches the table. “Jackson, I heard you met with Mason Sullivan today.”
“Ronny, this is Corrine, my assistant. She’s the one you harass each time you call my office.”
He doesn’t do much more than glance at me and give me a half-smile. “I hope you’ll give me the chance to bid on your new venture.”
“I think anything Golden Gate Capital can bring won’t be enough to beat SHN. We’ve worked together before, and they’ve made a significant commitment to maintaining that relationship.”
“I’ll call and set up a time on your schedule next week.” He winks at me and walks away, seeming satisfied.
I shudder with dread. “In your dreams,” I mutter.
“I agree,” Jackson says.
I hope I’m not blushing. “I’m sorry I said that out loud. Give me one drink, and there goes my filter. I’m happy to make the appointment, if you’d like. I just don’t trust that man.”
“No, it’s not necessary. Plus, the dickhead didn’t even acknowledge you.”
I shrug. “That’s not abnormal. I don’t usually put those guys on your calendar unless you specifically ask.”
“I’m good with that. I would think anyone who wants to meet me would know they have to get through you, so they’d spoil you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need gifts or anything, just respect. If they don’t treat me well, I figure they’ll be a problem later.”
A man with his hair slicked back and looking a little too smooth for my liking approaches the table. “Jackson, I heard about what happened today at your office.”
“What did you hear?” Jackson plays dumb.
“Your secretary couldn’t let her ex, Bobby Sanders, go.” He clicks his tongue like he’s riding a horse.
It’s very odd and incredibly off-putting. I feel myself turn a horrific shade of red.
“Actually…” Jackson looks at me and smiles. “The cheerleader was marking her territory over a man who’s a bigger asshole than you are. If you’ll excuse us, we’re trying to eat our dinner before it gets cold.”
We’re interrupted several more times as we eat our steaks. Some visitors inquire about Jackson looking for funding, but mostly they gossip about what happened today.
“Is it always like this?” I ask.
“Depends on where they seat me.”
No wonder the women he dates never last long. They aren’t able to say a sentence without interruption. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll make better reservations from now on.
“My dates usually love the attention.”
That’s surprising. “Why? They don’t get to talk to you.”
“I’m not sure talking is why they date me.”
He’s a beautiful man, but he does like his women to look like Barbie. He likes their looks, and they want his money. No surprise there.
“Well, from my limited conversations, they don’t strike me as conversational types.” My attempt to recover is terrible at best.
“No, I suppose not.” He seems uncomfortable, so I shouldn’t give him too hard of a time, but sometimes a girl can’t resist. “You have a type you like to date.”
“Apparently so do you.”
“Yes, I seem to like assholes.”
He laughs a deep belly laugh. “And what would you call the women I date?”
“Barbies.”
He nods.
“Floatation devices,” I add.
“What?” He was drinking his water, and I think it came out his nose.
Not a smart move with your boss.
“What’s a floatation device?” he asks, giving me the side eye.
I shrug, a little embarrassed about my honesty with the man who signs my paycheck. “She doesn’t have any original parts—a plastic surgeon’s masterpiece.”
He looks at me and takes another drink. “What kind of girl should I date?”
“I’m not sure this is something I should have to explain,” I tell him. “But what about someone you can talk to and enjoy as a human being, and who isn’t interested in your checkbook? Looks can fade, and the way you’re betting when you play poker, so could your luck.”
He looks down, and I can see him fighting a laugh. “Where is your family?”
“In Texas.”
“Ah. That explains so much. Dallas or Houston?”
“You can’t insult me about Texas. I’ve heard it all. My folks live much farther south in the Rio Grande Valley. My mom is, uh, in Corpus Christi, and my dad lives in McAllen.”
“What do they do?”
I typically hate
