3. Zoey

3

ZOEY

I tap my foot impatiently, but it only sinks into the plush carpet.

“Can I get you another drink?” asks the changing room attendant.

It’s now almost 1 p.m., and we’re in the dressing room of a very expensive department store. It’s the only dressing room I’ve ever been in where they bring you a glass of champagne while you’re waiting.

I shake my head. “No thank you. We’re leaving soon.” The last part is said louder and aimed over the red velvet curtain to the stall where Hugo is trying on yet another dinner suit.

He’s tried every style in the place, and I’m sure he’s being deliberately fussy and taking his time on purpose. It should be infuriating, but he looks so irresistibly hot in everything he’s come out in that I’m having trouble staying angry with him.

The curtain moves, and he strides out. This time it’s a white tuxedo with black edging, the kind of tux that a Hollywood movie star in the 30s would wear.

The shaggy beard contrasts with the neatness of the suit, giving the whole outfit a contemporary feel.

“How do I look?” His green eyes flash mischievously. I’m sure Hugo Walker knows exactly how good he looks.

My heart is racing a little faster than it should, and there’s a hotness between my legs that I’d love for him to investigate. But I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing what effect he’s having on me.

I rein in my racing heart and put on a blank expression as I give him a critical once-over.

“White is good for a Christmas party.”

“Do I look good in this one?” he says.

I put my hand on my hips. “You look good in all of them.”

He smiles triumphantly. “So you think I look good?”

Damn, he’s flirting with me, but I refuse to flirt back. He can flirt with all the other girls he meets; he won’t get that from me.

“Anyone can look good in a thousand dollar suit.”

He raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips. “Only a thousand dollars? The first one I tried on was at least triple that.”

I gape at him, and his grin widens. I’m not used to such extravagance, but he obviously is.

When we walked in here, the man on the store floor greeted him like he was family. Hugo may have been away for three years, but they obviously remember him here. He must have spent big enough to get us VIP treatment.

It’s so different from the world I’m used to. When I was growing up, all my clothes were either secondhand or from Walmart.

Even when I went out to work and started earning a wage of my own, the habit stuck. It seems frivolous to me to waste so much money on clothes.

I check my watch again. “Can you just pick one so we can get out of here? It’s after lunch, and I need to get back to the office.”

He frowns. “What do you need to do?”

“I’ve got emails to answer,” I say vaguely.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the last hour?”

It’s true. While he’s been trying on every suit in the place, I’ve used the opportunity to catch up on emails from my phone. In fact, without the distractions of the office I’ve managed to work through them quite quickly.

“I told your dad I’d get you back to the office,” I say.

He nods slowly. “Okay. We’ll head back.”

“Thank you.” Relief floods over me, but it’s tinged with something else. Disappointment.

I stand up quickly. I don’t even want to examine those feelings right now. Yes, he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen, but we’re from two different worlds. And while he obviously likes to flirt, there’s no way he’d be seriously interested in a girl like me.

He turns to the shop assistant. “I’ll take the white one.”

“Excellent choice, sir. I’ll get that packaged up for you.”

Hugo goes into the changing room to get dressed, and I check my phone.

When he comes out, I almost laugh out loud. I’d forgotten he was wearing that ridiculous sweater.

“You sure you don’t want to change into something else?”

“Nope.” His eyes are smiling. “I’m happy enough in this, thank you.”

The assistant comes back with a zip-up suit bag, and we follow him to the checkout.

My eyes water at the amount, but Hugo casually hands over a credit card.

We head back to the car, and he throws the suit bag over the backseat. I’m about to get in when he takes my arm. It sends a warm tingle down my spine, and my pulse kicks up a notch.

“Are you hungry, Zoey?”

He says it quietly, looking into my eyes as if he’s hungry for me. The tingle turns into a delicious shiver that runs straight to the spot between my legs.

“Because I could kill for a steak.”

I turn away, feeling stupid. Of course he’s hungry for food. How could I think a man like Hugo could be hungry for straight-laced, serious, lumpy me?

“I’ve got my lunch back at the office,” I say, sliding into the front seat.

“I’m sure you do. What is it? Leftovers? A cheese sandwich?”

“It’s a couscous salad.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Homemade?”

I nod. I enjoy cooking, even though it’s only for me.

“You can leave your couscous salad.” He leans on the car door, all casual hotness. “I know a fantastic steak house along the highway about half way between here and Maple Springs. Let’s go have lunch.”

His gaze is boring into me, and my throat’s gone dry. “I need to get back to the office,” I say meekly.

“You get a lunch break, don’t you? I know my dad can be a hard taskmaster, but he wouldn’t deny you a lunch break.”

I sigh. Steak does sound good, and at least it’s heading in the right direction. And while I know I should get back, the more time I spend with this hot, funny man, the more I’m enjoying myself. And besides, I know he’s only doing this to annoy his father. Once I get him back to the office, he won’t give a girl like me a second glance. I should enjoy the attention while I can.

“Fine. We’ll go get lunch.” He grins at me. “But we’re going straight to the office afterward.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe?” I get out of the car but he’s already walking away, hands in his pockets in a casual stride that both exasperates and turns me on.

I should insist that he gets in the car; I should insist we go straight to the office. But I can see his arm muscles rippling under his sweater, and his ass sways in a way that makes me want to grab it with both hands.

It’s suddenly very hot, and I shrug off my sensible black blazer and fling it in the car. Then I slam the door shut and follow him out of the parking lot.