One Bossy Offer (17)

Her.

My chest swells as I draw in a ragged breath.

“Everyone, I have to step out,” I say, not bothering to look behind me for their reaction as I blow past my valet.

She looks so small and out of place in my foyer. Her hands are clasped in front of her like she’s afraid the walls of my house are about to chew her up.

Her bright-yellow sundress swallows her instead, and a sharp smile I can’t decipher ignites her face when she sees me.

“What’s this? You came to torment me in person? I’m honored,” I say, extending a hand.

She doesn’t take it, just steps toward me.

“I came for a job—don’t make me regret this.”

I nod coolly. “And upset a sun angel? No.”

I’m annoyed that I sound so serious. I don’t do reflexive flattery, but it’s sincere here.

She’s a glowing accent against the stark hypermodern black and white of my home, almost blinding in her dress.

“No need to kiss butt. I’m here, aren’t I?” she whispers.

I step closer, inhaling a whiff of her perfume. My nostrils tingle, taking in cutting citrus and something softer and flowery, a smell that matches her radiance.

I glance away casually, trying like hell not to linger.

If my eyes wander her too long, they’ll be diving up her sleek legs and down her cleavage in no time, destroying whatever progress we stand to make.

“Your timing is impeccable, Miss Landers,” I say, taking her hand gently. “We were just about to get started on the project I need you for. You’re welcome to join us in the—”

“Yo, Mr. C, you still busy? Just had a banger idea!” Dave calls behind me, leaning out the door and popping something into his mouth.

Probably another edible disguised as a mint.

Goddamn this talking THC factory. Can’t he stay put for five minutes?

“I hope I’m not making a monster mistake,” Jenn whispers, mostly to herself.

“What mistake?” Smokey Dave echoes.

“Go talk to your team. I’ll be back in a minute.” I put a hand on Jennifer’s arm.

Something electric sears the air.

Her skin feels so soft, delicate and warm against my fingers.

If there’s any mistake, it’s right here. I rip my hand back, ignoring her heavy look.

“Come with me,” I tell her.

“Who was that guy?”

“The video lead for Pinnacle Pointe’s latest tourism push. He’s annoying as hell, but surprisingly lethal with a camera. He’ll help with the feel-good stories we need. We just need a tour guide first.” I lead her into my library, where the others are gathered around in a messy circle.

She must sense the way I’m looking at her because she falls back a step.

“Wait, what? I’m a marketer, not a tour guide.”

“And I’m a CEO who only goes into town for supplies. It can’t be me.”

Her jaw drops. “That’s what you’re hiring me for? To be a glorified babysitter?”

“That certainly isn’t everything, but it’s a start,” I say carefully.

“I’m not available. Showcasing Pinnacle Pointe falls outside the scope of Odd Little Bee’s services.”

“It’s a package deal,” I say, seizing the opportunity. “Consider it a meet and greet with people you’ll be working with. You’ll be out with the creative team making sure they get started on authentic content. You can steer content production, and veto anything you don’t like. Where’s the problem, Miss Landers?”

“Cromwell, I am not some ‘feel-good’ reporter. And I don’t know the first thing about shooting good video.”

“That’s why I keep Smokey Dave around—grudgingly. And what do you think content marketing is? You know where those cameras should be pointed.”

She starts to turn around, huffing a breath.

“See, I knew this was a mistake.”

I shut the door behind her before she can walk out.

“No mistake. An opportunity. Here are the terms of my offer. You give me three months on this project, helping my team satisfy the tourism booster promise I made the mayor. You’ll walk away with a hundred thousand dollars and all the time in the world to fix up Bee Harbor. Plus, you’ll have a corporate card to cover any incidental expenses while you’re out with the team. By the end of this, if you happen to see me as a human being and not some soul-sucking demon aiming to buy off the world, I’d like the first option to buy your property—if and when you decide to sell.”

She stalls and stares at me, barely breathing.

Her brilliant green eyes gleam with uncertainty.

“Jeez, you really are a vampire. The property is never going up for sale. Even if you’re secretly immortal, you’ll be in for a long wait.”

“Forget the property then. I still need your expertise,” I growl.

What I actually need is to stroke her ego enough to close the real deal. I’m willing to bide my time.

“I don’t know. If giving you an exclusive option on the inn is one of your terms...”

I hold her gaze, drawing a breath, and give her an honest answer. “Miss Landers, I think eventually you’re going to wonder whether or not a bed and breakfast is a bigger project than you’re ready for right now. And even if you don’t, you might ask yourself if you really want to spend your best years in Pinnacle Pointe. Should you change your mind and sell, I hope I’m the buyer. I don’t want to see that gorgeous landscape turned into a parking lot or a suburban exclave packed with cookie-cutter houses. An option is all I ask. First dibs.”