“Yeah. My thoughts exactly.” My heart was beating a millisecond too fast.
“Can I show you my ideas?” He walked over to his desk and typed away on his iMac. I sat in the chair directly in front of his desk.
“Why are you over there?” he asked as he looked at me seated in front of him.
“Oh, I was just…waiting until you pulled everything up.” There was absolutely no way I would stand next to him for fear that I’d faint. I didn’t need to add that to my catalog of embarrassments today.
“I see. You can come over, Ari. I won’t bite.”
Listen, with those perfect teeth, I wish you would take a bite out of me. I clenched my thighs so hard that I was sure I heard a seam burst in my skirt.
I looked around, realizing that neither his desk nor my thighs would allow for me to move the chair to his side of the desk to view the screen. Standing next to him and bending over, I was more worried about my skirt ripping or my boobs hitting him in the face. I took a deep breath, barely smiling. Dear God, Allah, and Buddha, don’t let me make a fool of myself or have my tits go tumbling out of this blouse.
I stood next to him. His renderings were pretty good but not great. I bent over to get a closer look. I could feel his breath, a low whirling heat, on my neck and had to reposition myself as to not get lost in the feeling. It was warm and smelled familiar, like sweet peppermint from your grandma’s candy dish. Perfect teeth. Intoxicating eyes. And fresh breath? Well, that’s just not fair.
“These are pretty good,” I declared, trying to distract myself from everything about this man.
Porter smiled, a little. “I started with hand-drawn drafts, then REVIT.”
He moved the mouse around so I could get a 360° view, and then an interior view of the stadium. Everything was so detailed, down to the shape of the seats. His eyes caught mine, waiting for me to say something. I had to think of a question fast.
“I, uh, was just wondering. Why didn’t you open it up more on the left for more natural light? Instead of closing this off for this large scoreboard?”
He looked puzzled, leaned back, and scratched the stubble along his chiseled jawline. I wanted to take my index finger and trace along its ridges. Feel the roughness against my skin. Dammit. Focus, Ari. Focus!
“Oh, I didn’t really think about that. Maybe for our next design, we can try that. I’ll make a note of it.”
I smiled and moved back around to the other side of the desk. I had to sit down. The cologne, the peppermint-smelling breath, the stubble—I felt light-headed. Maybe I needed something to eat. I had nothing but cappuccino in my stomach. Did the dudes here even eat, or did they go to the gym on lunch breaks? The guys I’d passed in the hallway were ripped. Including Porter. Not that I’d noticed.
“Lunch?” asked Porter.
Was he reading my mind? “Huh?”
“I asked, would you like to go to lunch? My treat. There is a great sushi spot around the corner. It stays packed but I know a guy who can get me a reservation. Actually, it’s not that close. We’d have to drive. The body shop just brought my car to the garage. I’m sure you’re hungry by now.” Porter paused. Instantly, his face turned red. Dude, it’s okay. People think I’m always hungry. This time, I actually was starving.
“Sure. That’ll be great.” I smiled, assuring him he hadn’t committed a social faux pas. His eyes twinkled with so much delight that I didn’t have the heart to tell him I couldn’t stand sushi. I liked my fish fried with hot sauce.
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby. Give me like five minutes.”
I got up and walked toward the door. I looked both ways down the hall in confusion.
I looked back and Porter smiled as he pointed a finger left. “The lobby’s that way, Ari.”
Maybe the day was looking up.
Chapter Four
Porter
Ari sat across from me in a half booth at Tomo. She shifted uncomfortably, which made me second-guess sitting here. She tapped her fingers on the table, the same way she did in the office.
“Nervous habit?” I asked as I opened my chopsticks to pick up some edamame. I was picking up on all her quirks.
“I guess you can say that.” She looked around the restaurant. It was crazy busy even though we’d arrived during the beginning of lunch. Ari looked down at the menu, her nose scrunched up, blinking a few times. She would be a terrible poker player. Her tells were obvious.
“Do you want to change tables? We can get an open table,” I said, concerned about her comfort.