The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(33)

“You know what I would do if I were you?” Molly says.

“What?”

“I would wear the gray skirt tomorrow, and I would ignore the fuck out of him.”

I stare at her.

“Make the bastard weep.”

“Yeah.” Aaron smiles broadly. “Flirt your ass off in that gray skirt.”

I smirk as the idea rolls around in my head. “You know, guys . . . that’s not actually a bad idea.”

I hold my glass up in the air as I smile at my two friends. “To Operation Flirty Office Slut.” Molly smiles as she clinks her glass with mine.

I smirk as I stare at her. “Game on.”

I march into the office like a rock star.

No stockings . . . check.

White lace bra . . . check.

White silk shirt . . . check.

High ponytail . . . check.

Gray skirt with split . . . check, check, double check.

“Good morning.” I smile at my friends as I arrive at my desk.

Their eyes come to me, and they smirk as they see I’m wearing the requested outfit. Aaron gives me a wink and turns back to his computer.

“Does anybody want coffee?” I ask.

“Yes, please,” they both reply.

I walk into the kitchen, and Ricardo follows me in. “Hey, chickie, I’ve been waiting for you.”

I smile an over-the-top fake smile. God . . . can’t I have someone better to fake flirt with than this guy? “Hi,” I reply excitedly. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” He smiles at my enthusiasm. “Listen, I’m so sorry I got you into trouble the other day.”

I smile and pull my hand through my ponytail. “That’s okay. Come and see me later, though, won’t you?”

His eyes light up. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

I walk back to my desk and take a seat with our three coffees, and I open my emails and get to work. Jameson called me six times last night, and I don’t know why.

I’m not sure if he wanted to apologize or fight . . . but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of answering his call so he can do either.

I’m going to have a good day, and I’m not going to think about Jameson Miles once.

It’s three o’clock, and Operation Flirty Office Slut is in full swing. I’ve smiled and laughed with every loser in the building today. I’m not sure if he’s even watching, but I’m about to up the ante. I’m on my way up to see Tristan about the story I wrote.

The elevator doors open, and I smile sweetly at the receptionist.

“Hello, I’m here to see Tristan.”

“Sure, just a moment.” She frowns as she tries to remember my name.

“It’s Emily Foster.”

“That’s right. I’m sorry.” She calls through. “Tristan, I have Emily Foster here to see you.”

“Okay, send her in,” he replies happily.

“Just go through to the main conference room, but instead of turning left to go to Jameson’s office, turn right, and go down the corridor on the other side of the building.”

“Thank you.” I follow her directions and head down to the other end of the building. I frown; there are four office doors. I hesitate. Which door did she say?

I walk down the corridor, and a door is open. I see Jameson is in there, talking to a man. “Sorry to bother you. Is Tristan’s office down here?” I ask.

Jameson’s face falls as he sees me.

“Next door,” the other man replies.

I smile sweetly. “Thank you.” I head over and knock on Tristan’s door.

“Come in,” he calls, and I walk in and close the door behind me.

“Hello.” I smile.

“Hi, Emily.” He smiles warmly as he gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Please take a seat.”

As I sit down, I come to the realization that Tristan doesn’t make me nervous at all; I wish his brother didn’t.

“I just was wondering if you had time to look at the story I wrote?”

“I did, yes, and I loved it. Were you happy with it?”

“Yeah, I think it was better. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do with it next.”

He frowns. “We’ll need to submit it as if it has come to you. Did you talk to Jameson?”

“Umm.”

The office door opens, and Jameson marches in. “Hello.”

“Speak of the devil.” Tristan smiles.

“Hello,” I reply as I turn my attention back to Tristan. It’s hard not to stare at Jameson when he’s in a room; he overtakes any space.

This playing hard to get is harder to do than it looks.

“Emily is here to talk about the story she wrote.”

“I see.” He stares at me, and I feel the magnetic pull to him as it begins to surround me.

“Was it okay?” I ask.

“It was.” His eyes hold mine. “It was very good.”

“Are we just going to submit it now as if it has come to her as news?” Tristan asks.

Jameson’s eyes stay fixed on mine. “Yes, I think so.”

My eyes flick between the two men. “Okay. I’ll submit it and let you know what happens.”