“Okay, ladies, let’s see what you got.”
She took her seat at the table, signaling for Gwen to begin. I looked at her presentation boards. She went with what I assumed was a Moroccan theme with a gold leaf wall paper and deep purple drapes pooling on the floor. The whole concept was Arabia meets Moulin Rouge. All it needed was Ewan McGregor and an elephant in the corner.
Nope, I was wrong, she had the elephant.
I glanced at Madeline. Her elbow was resting on the table, fingers pressed to her pursed lips, her face blank and completely unreadable as she listened. It was difficult to tell what she was thinking as Gwen yammered on and on.
“Thank you, Ms. Stevens,” she said. “Ms. McCabe, I believe you are up.”
I took my place at the front of the room. “The Ashburn Family started their global empire with just a few fishing boats in the Florida Keys. As generations have passed, they have branched out, but I thought that a nod to their Southern coastal roots would be something they would love.”
I placed my boards on the easel in front of the room. The boards showed slow moving fans and plantation shutters, potted ferns framing the reception desk, and cool slate tiles with thatched rugs, all of which could be done for under the advised budget.
When I was finished, I studied Madeline’s face for her reaction, but her stoic expression remained. She got to her feet and paced back and forth. Then she examined each budget proposal again and felt the fabric samples. She spent what felt like hours considering the options. Finally, she came to a stop at the head of the table.
“You both did a fantastic job, but I believe, for this project, Ms. McCabe’s plan is the best approach.” She smiled at me. “Ms. McCabe, you can present to the board next week.”
With that, Madeline swept out of the room, not noticing Gwen glaring in my direction. I just smiled and collected my materials.
“Guess she’s not a Nicole Kidman fan,” I said as I headed for the door. I heard Gwen’s growl of frustration as I made my way down the hall.
Alex: 2, Bitchface: 0. I was on a roll.
***
I was chopping up the chicken when I heard a knock on the door. It opened a crack and Drew stuck his hand, the one with the bottle of tequila in it, through the opening. I grabbed the bottle from him as he pushed the door open, brandishing a bag of limes in his other hand.
“Sadly, they were out of Margarita mix.” He paused, feigning disappointment. “So, shots it is!” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I’m sure they were out.” I giggled, taking the limes from him into the kitchen to finish dinner. I dumped the chicken and onions in the frying pan. “Tonight is a bit of a celebration.”
“For what?”
“Guess who is presenting her proposal to the board of the Ashland Hotel next week?”
“Bitchface?”
I threw a piece of green pepper at him. He dove and caught it in his mouth, raising his arms in victory as he chewed.
“Funny. No, seriously. Madeline loved my ideas. She gave me the go ahead to present to the board.”
“Wow! Congrats, Red. That’s great! This will be your first big solo project, huh?” He reached around me to pluck another pepper from the cutting board.
“Kind of. I’ve flown solo before, but on bathrooms and kitchen renovations. Never on something this huge.”
“Well then, let us drink to your success.”
Drew took the bottle off the counter. He reached up to get the glasses from the cabinet. The hem of his shirt pulled up, exposing a strip of his perfectly tanned, muscular stomach and that perfect V-shape pointing right down to his…
What was up with me? Since when do I ogle Drew? I’m not blind. He’s obviously gorgeous. His dark hair is messy in that sexy, just-got-out-of-bed kind of way. His eyes are deep blue and change from dark to light depending on his mood. His shoulders are broad and muscular from playing football all through high school and most of college. He still plays twice a month in Grover Park. I guess I just never took the time to notice him.
Well, okay, I noticed. I definitely noticed. I can’t help how my body reacts to him, my skin flushing and heart speeding up, teeth trapping my bottom lip, but that was just a biological reaction to someone I found attractive. At least that’s what I told myself.
Drew is still the player he was in college, though. Besides, he’d said it before; I’m not his type. I’m not exactly sure what his type is. The girls I’d seen him with showed a pretty wide range. There were so many it was impossible for me to keep their names straight, so I gave them nicknames like Bleach Bunny and Baby Voice. Over the years, there were blondes, brunettes, and a few with hair colors not found in nature. All of them had one thing in common, all boobs and no brains. Since he seemed happy, I would put forth the effort to talk to Bubbles and Hooters when he brought them around, even though it made me want to drill a hole into my skull.
“Alex.” Drew waved his hand in front of my face.
“Oh, sorry.”
“You okay?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I turned back to the stove, trying to hide the deep shade of red consuming my face. I pushed the attraction way, way down, like I always did. Drew was my best friend. Nothing was going to happen between us. He loved me like his little sister. We’ve always been like family. In fact, he’s the only family I have.
If something ever happened between us, it would complicate things way too much. Some lines were better left uncrossed. Drew was the center of my world, which sounded a little weird, but it was true. Drew was there for me when I had no one. He brought me back to life. I wasn’t going to risk losing him just to get laid, even though it had been a while.
He reached around me, stealing a piece of chicken from the pan, and I swatted at him with my spatula. He just laughed, leaning back against the counter. I had to reach around him to get a knife and he didn’t try to move out of the way. He just smiled down at me, watching me struggle to reach around his hard, sculpted body.
I started cutting up the limes, dividing them into wedges in an attempt to focus my attention on anything but how good he looked in that shirt. Man, my hormones were on overdrive tonight. I needed a drink.
After grabbing the salt from the stove, I licked my wrist and salted it before handing the salt to Drew. He took the shaker, his fingers briefly brushing mine, licked his wrist, and sprinkled on the salt. His eyes never left mine during the entire process. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn he was flirting.
I handed him a lime as he poured me a shot and handed me the glass. We locked eyes and clinked glasses, then licked the salt off of our own wrists and downed the shot. My body warmed as the tequila spread through my system. Drew held his lime out for me and I did the same, taking the lime he offered between my teeth.
When I met his eyes again, there was something different there. I just couldn’t place it. He took hold of my hand, guiding the lime I held to his lips, his tongue flicking out to wet them before taking the bitter fruit between his teeth. I couldn’t help but stare at his mouth as he sucked the juice from the lime wedge.
I blinked and took the lime out of my mouth. Pulling my hand from his grasp, I turned toward the stove to finish dinner. When my back was safely to him, I exhaled, letting out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
When I finished the quesadillas, I handed him his plate and a bottle of water, which he tucked under his arm. He grabbed the tequila with his free hand and headed for the living room. I followed behind with the salt, a plate of limes, and our glasses, then returned to the kitchen for my food and some napkins, taking a moment alone to calm my nerves.
He flipped on the TV, searching through the movie channels. When I came back into the living room and sat on the couch next to him, he had settled on a movie.
“Fight Club again,” I said, setting my plate in my lap, I scooped salsa onto my fork.
“Of course. Tyler Durden is a badass,” he replied. He took a big bite of his quesadilla, cheese stretching out from his mouth as he tore through the tortilla with his teeth. I laughed and handed him a napkin. He was such a mess.
“You always say that. Tyler Durden is a hallucination brought on by insomnia.”