“What should I worry about?”
As I take a bite of edamame, I consider her question. I consider my track record. I consider what I knew and didn’t know then offer my best answer. “Whether he’s as good at dating as he is at piloting paper airplanes.”
“Good point. But I’m finding it a bit hard to make that decision.” She gestures to the vast array of items in front of her. “I couldn’t even decide what to have for lunch.”
“Dating and lunch are different beasts. For now, I guess you have a little of everything.”
“Now that’s an excellent decision.” She drops her voice to a knowing whisper. “With lunch and men.”
As promised, Leo waits for me outside the conference room, his back to me.
Out of nowhere, a wave of goose bumps rushes over my skin when I see him.
Now that—that’s the kind of man suits are made for. Screw politicians. Suits are for men like Leo—broad shoulders, strong thighs, toned arms.
And he possesses another attribute that sure makes a suit look like it’s whistling a happy tune being worn by him.
His ass.
Those tailored charcoal pants seem to hug his ass worshipfully, praying at the altar of perfect cheeks.
Tingles sweep down my chest, and absently, I lick my lips.
Wait.
I stop in my tracks, talking back to my wildly inappropriate self.
Did I just think of Leo’s ass?
Oh hell, I did, says Wildly Inappropriate Lulu.
I did just think of his firm, succulent butt that’s begging to be grabbed, held on to, woman-handled.
Stop!
I clench my fists, my nails digging in, a mildly painful bid to wrest control of the runaway train of my libido. I shove away the errant dirty thoughts. I should not be thinking about Leo’s butt.
But how did I never notice he had such a fine ass before? I’m not even an ass woman. I’m an eyes woman.
When he turns around, his smile spreads lazily, taking its time. His grin is crooked and kind at the same time, reaching all the way to his eyes, his brown irises so damn soulful they seem to see inside me.
That’s when I do a clean sweep of my brain.
I can’t let him see inside me. He can’t know I was thinking of his . . . assets. I’m here to work, not to perv on the man. After all, I’m no female Willy Wonka.
But, more importantly, I’m working with him. And yeah, sure, no one has asked me to sign a contract forbidding contractors like me from fraternizing with key employees like him. But hello? I’m here to work, and I need to focus on this opportunity to build my business at last. And to build it free of distractions of the male variety.
I vow to think friendly thoughts.
I say hi, then head into the conference room with him by my side. Once we sit down, I don’t make eye contact. Not with his eyes, nor his ass.
Well, he is parked on it. It would be hard to check out his chiseled butt right now anyway.
10LEO
I grew up as the oldest of three brothers in a middle-class family outside Philadelphia. My father worked as a manager at a hardware store, my mother as a florist. Our lives were simple. My parents worked hard and long.
When times were leaner, I tried my best to make sure my younger brothers had everything they needed—the warmer jackets, the better sneakers. At five years older than my middle brother and seven more than the youngest, I was keenly aware I’d make it out of the house before they did, so I did my part to put them first and to make sure I could contribute to the family too.
In high school, I snagged a busboy job at a swank surf-and-turf restaurant. Its sprawling oak booths and burgundy leather seats were home to the wheelers and dealers in the city.
I worked my way up from busboy to waiter, and along the way, I was privy to bits and pieces of the deal-making that went down in those booths. There, as I served porterhouse and Cobb salad, I learned the lingo.
Now, at age thirty-two, I have the job I want. I’m the guy who strikes the deals. I’m exactly where I want to be in business, and that’s because I set a goal when I was younger, and I worked my ass off to reach it. When I went to college, I paid for it myself, thanks to loans and scholarships I earned.
I take pride in what I do, especially because I don’t merely love deal-making—I love doing it for Heavenly. My family had one indulgence growing up—chocolate—even when money was tight. My mom would bring out a treat from her secret hiding place when we had all done our homework and chores.
As I grew older, my love affair with chocolate stayed strong. Work feels a lot less like work and more like an indulgence.
Now, the chance to introduce my old friend to my company gives me a healthy injection of pride.
Friend, I remind myself.
Lulu has only ever been a friend.
That’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
