Junk Mail(7)

I can completely see why. He’s so smooth about this whole debacle.

So that means he has smarts, looks, confidence, and humor?

God help me.

Folding his hands on the table in front of him, Josh leans closer. “Peyton, let’s get down to the nuts and bolts of this, shall we?”

And my face goes beet red again.





Chapter Five


Josh



Nuts?

Seriously, Hanson? Of all the words in the English language, you choose nuts?

But hey, on the plus side, she hasn’t seen the boys, just their leader.

Even so, I need to keep this meeting above the belt, including my own damn thoughts. I offer Peyton another apologetic smile. Time to get this deal back on track.

“Want to tell me more about your company?”

“I do. I really do. I would love to tell you about Wish Upon a Gift.”

Her tone shifts instantly when she mentions her business, making me even more keen to hear her pitch.

I smile. A perfect, professional smile, as I cross my legs and fold my hands in my lap. I’m a motherfucking gentleman, not a junk-shot-sending caveman. “I want to hear all about it, Peyton.”

The only way to get past this mixup is to focus on business.

Not on her pretty face.

Not on those gorgeous eyes.

And definitely not on that dark hair I want to wrap around my fist and yank on it hard.

Four fucking months . . . that’s what’s wrong with my libido. It’s not operating in its normal overdrive. No, today, it’s at fucking warp speed. This is what happens when your own hand becomes your closest companion.

I conduct a full mental sweep, keying in on the words Peyton is saying.

“I started Wish Upon a Gift when my best friend was pregnant and overwhelmed. I started making little gifts for her to help her in the final weeks, and then once the baby was born too.”

My smile widens. “That’s very thoughtful.”

“Thank you. I’ve always loved showering friends with gifts, to be honest. It was really fun to do that for her. I heard from other new moms that they also, not surprisingly, felt overwhelmed. And I thought about meal services and food-delivery subscriptions, but I also wanted to do something that wasn’t just utilitarian.”

I nod, liking her story. “Yup. I’m with you. Utilitarian and practical is good, but little luxuries and treats are too. We love our luxuries in the wine business.”

A gleam of excitement lights up her eyes. “Exactly. I wanted to move beyond the practical and curate gift boxes for date nights, or for no occasion at all. Something that can make an ordinary Tuesday special—a box of chocolates, massage oil, maybe a bottle of wine.”

“You’ve done well with it,” I say, recalling Brody’s notes. “A lot of people these days are wanting to give more authentic gifts. The heyday of the gift card is starting to wane, and consumers are wanting to put more thought into their gifts.”

“Exactly! People just default and give each other gift cards, but a lot of people still want to give meaningful gifts to friends and loved ones, and that’s where I wanted to take Wish Upon a Gift.”

She reaches into a cavernous bag on the floor and takes out a few boxes to show me. Her excitement is infectious. She’s passionate and delighted and truly seems to care. More than that, these boxes are fantastic. They look classy, but fun.

We chat more about terms, and options, and how this would pan out. And since Brody made his wishes clear, there’s only one thing left for me to say.

“Peyton, we’d love to work with you. And I’m confident we can continue a business relationship, while at the same time putting this awkward situation behind us.”

Her blue eyes sparkle. “This is a tremendous opportunity.”

I clear my throat. “Fantastic. I’ll email you more details on the terms.”

But as she stands, her chair rolls a little closer and her knee brushes mine while we rise. I glance down at her legs, then back up.

It was less than a second of innocent contact, but we both seem to fixate on that moment more than we should. When my eyes meet hers again, her breath catches, her cheeks pinken with bright spots of color, and a flush travels up her neck.

I can feel it in the air . . . all the possibilities. Hauling her into my arms and kissing the lipstick off her.

I bet it would be fantastic. Hot and wet and unraveling.

And then I remember that less than twenty-four hours ago, Peyton was the recipient of a candid shot of my goods, and now we’re going to be business partners. I’ll have that memory in the back of my mind every time I talk to her, and I’m afraid I’m going to sabotage this deal.

Brody will kill me if I fuck this up.





Chapter Six


Peyton



As Josh and I walk together toward the elevators, I want to dance for joy, to squeal and punch the sky. But there will be time for that later. Right now, I need to be professional. Just because I’ve seen this attractive man’s johnson doesn’t give me the right to leer at him. So I put on my best game face and pretend that my stomach isn’t tied in a gigantic knot.

“I think this will be a great partnership,” I manage to say.

“I do too. And I promise to keep it professional.” Josh extends his hand to me.