What the hell?Ĭlearing my throat, I turn away. I can see the faint outline of the lace cups of her bra against her olive skin, and my mouth goes dry.įuck, how long has it been since I’ve touched a woman? My fingers curl with wanting to touch her. Her black jacket is gone, and her cream silk blouse is thin, almost transparent. I feel Taron’s face turn toward us, but I can’t look away. She’s standing in front of me, those gray-blue eyes fixed on me like some kind of witch. The door opens on its own, and my throat tightens. Scrubbing my hands against my forehead, I start for the door.
“And the sun never set on the British Empire? Yes, times have changed.” They’re still our biggest book of business, you know.” “That would go over great with our Nashville clients. “There wasn’t a man who spoke five languages?” “We need Hastings and Key, and we need Raquel Morgan. He knows what I’m talking about-his wry grin confirms it. “One week, and we’ll give them one last chance.” I stand, ready to return to my office.
My fingers steeple in front of my lips, and I consider his suggestion. Raquel can help you with Madagascar, and I’ll focus on securing them.
I’m talking to Pro Partner and AmCham, both in Abu Dhabi and both interested. “Braden wants a bigger piece of the profits, more control of which markets roll out and when. Taron’s palms are flat on the table, and he holds a beat. Braden Investments messaged me last week ready to go.” I’m out of my chair, ready to go to the next name on our list. Why Do We Dream and What is Actually a Dream?
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