“What’s on your mind?” Owen asks, staring curiously at me.
“Why do you ask?”
He shrugs. “Just looked like you were deep in thought over something.”
Here I go. “Actually, I was. I think you paid me too much to plan this party. It’s not costing nearly five hundred thousand to plan. Not even close.”
His brows furrow. “So, what are you saying?”
My stomach is in knots. Never have I ever told someone they paid me too much. “I’m saying I should give you back some of the money. The party has been super easy to plan. It’s not like I’ve had to slave over it. I enjoy party planning and Halloween is my favorite. I don’t feel right making so much profit from it.”
Owen stares right into my eyes and smiles. “Wow. This is a first for me. It’s nice to know there are morally sound people in this world. In my business, you don’t come across many.”
“True,” I agree. “I’ve worked with plenty who don’t even want to pay me.”
Owen leans forward. “Tell you what, Ms. Anderson. I’m supposed to plan a charity function that takes place a couple days after the Nightmare Ball. I haven’t started on it yet so I could really use your help.”
“You’re not going to pay me any more, right?”
He holds out his hand. “Right. Do we have a deal?”
I shake his hand and the same feeling I had earlier when we touched runs straight to my heart. It’s like butterflies fluttering all through my chest and stomach. “Deal,” I say.
After we eat our lunch, Owen walks me to my car. It turns out he parked right beside me in a silver Range Rover. “So, tell me,” he begins, “are you coming dressed up for the Nightmare Ball?” He leans against his car with his arms crossed over his chest and smirking in that sexy grin of his. I swear, it feels like I know him from somewhere. I can’t put my finger on it, but I am not going to ask him.
“Of course. I don’t know as what yet, but masquerades are my favorite.”
His gaze drops to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “Do you actually get to enjoy yourself at the parties you plan or is it strictly work?”
Heat rises to my cheeks and I pray to God he doesn’t notice. Clearing my throat, I toss my purse into the front seat of my car and turn my head. “Sometimes,” I answer as honest as I can. “I’ll maybe have a couple of drinks.”
Owen grins. “Good. I’ll have to see if I can recognize you.”
The butterflies come back, and in my mind, I really want him to find me. Stop it, Ensley. You cannot mix business with pleasure.
“What are you going to be dressed as?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Not sure. I’ll come up with something.” He walks over and opens my car door for me. “Lunch was great. If you have any more questions about the party, you can give me a call.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet and slips out a card with his phone numbers on it. “If not, I’ll see you at the ball.”
He’s so close I can smell his cologne. Even that is familiar. His eyes are not though. When it comes to men, I’m an eye person. The eyes are the pathway to the soul. You can tell a lot about a person by the look in their eyes. Owen’s are just dark blue, almost plain in a way. Still, there’s something in them calling to me.
He shuts my car door and smiles one more time before getting into his car. I pull out first and he follows me through the parking deck, only he takes a right and I take a left out of the exit. As soon as I stop at a stoplight, I pull out my phone and call Jordan.
“Hey, girl. How’d it go?”
“Remember the guy I stepped on after our meeting the other day?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s the other owner of the radio station. I had lunch with him today.”
She whistles. “Nice. He’s totally into you. And he’s hot too.”
“Which is why I need your help. What should I wear to the masquerade ball?”
“I don’t know,” she says, and even though I can’t see her, I know she’s grinning devilishly. “But it has to be something uber sexy.”
The wheels in my mind turn and then it comes to me. I know exactly what I want to wear.
4
Owen
In my life, I have never had the urge to jack off in the fancy bathrooms at work or in my office, but after having lunch with Ensley, the woman of my pornographic dreams is leaving me with a very uncomfortable situation in my pants. There is something seriously wrong with me. No woman, not even any of my former girlfriends, have made me feel like this. I’m starting to think I need sex therapy for an addiction I didn’t realize I had until now.
When I enter Damien’s office, he has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you take her in the back of the Range Rover? Like the Halsey song?”
I sit down across from him and pull my leg up to rest my ankle on my knee. “First off, the song you’re referring to is by the Chain Smokers and featured Halsey. It’s called Closer. Their performance at the VMA’s was hot.” While we both love music, I’m more of an aficionado and am on the cusp of the music scene.
He nods. “Oh yes, the almost nip slip.”
“Eh,” I say. “Halsey used tape under her shirt. There was never any concern of slippage.”
Damien laughs. “Maybe next year, I’ll go with you to the show.”
“And what, miss classical night on PBS?” I ask with a laugh. Damien throws his pen at me, and while my reflexes usually are spot on, the damn thing jabs me in my rib cage. I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he inflicted
