authoritative. “This is great. I’ll go over it carefully and show it to the client. I really appreciate you making such a huge effort.”
“I’ll confess to not getting much sleep, but I appreciate the chance. I’m new, and this is the first time Willings has let me do something on my own.”
“I know just how that feels.”
“I’ll get out of here so you can talk to the client, but I would appreciate knowing her reaction.”
“You got it. I’ll call you.”
Rico stuck out his hand. “Thanks.”
Jim shook. “No. Thank you.”
Rico ran out as fast as he’d come in, and Jim started looking at the plans. He got through the whole set once when the door opened again. “Hello, Jim. Ready for lunch?”
Constance Murch looked different. Not quite so buttoned-down and businesslike, she’d worn a blue dress and higher heels. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders real smooth. She looked pretty, which was nice, and she’d obviously made an effort, which was scary. “Yes. Thanks.” But he’d made an extra effort too, putting on a pair of dark blue khakis and a long-sleeved shirt.
“I thought we’d go to the restaurant here in the building. Their food is good, and I made a reservation.”
He smiled. “I’m in your hands.”
That got a big grin out of her. “How nice.” She nodded at the papers in his hands. “Looks like you have something to show me.”
“Yeah. Just rough, but it’ll give you an idea of the approach.”
“Excellent. I can’t wait to see them. Let’s go get our table and we can talk.” She slipped an arm through his and led the way out the door.
As they walked, her boob pressed against his bicep. It was kind of nice. See, I really like women. She didn’t let go until they’d walked across the lobby, been shown to a table in the back of the pretty garden restaurant, and were seated. “Do you want iced tea, or shall we have some wine to celebrate our future collaborations?”
What the fuck did that mean? God, wine sounded good, and he didn’t even have to pay for it. “Uh, I’m working, so I better stick to tea.”
She nodded. “I like a serious man. Good.”
Had he passed some sort of test? He glanced at the menu. “I haven’t eaten here before. What’s good?”
“They have excellent salads.”
Yuck.
“And I’m told their burgers are memorable. You impress me as a burger man.” She smiled.
He grinned. “Then I impress you correctly.” He glanced at the list, and they had every kind of thing you could do to a burger, from avocado to wasabi.
The waiter arrived, and she ordered a salad and he got a burger with cheese plus sweet potato fries, which sounded weird, but Constance assured him were good. When the waiter left, she leaned forward, flashing more than a hint of cleavage. “So show me what you’ve got.”
That could be interpreted a lot of ways. He unfolded the drawings and spread them out on the tablecloth. “Since you liked the consultant’s sketch, my architect—” He almost laughed at the possessive. “—kept it in mind while working out these plans. Notice that he’s maintained the light and visibility but cut back on some of the expanses of glass, which should keep the costs down.” Oh man, he was full of shit, but that’s the way he saw it.
She stared at it with a crease between her light eyebrows. “Have you done a cost estimate?”
“No, ma’am. He just finished this rough this morning. But if you like the approach, I’ll get right on it.” His shirt should be jumping, his heart beat so hard.
“You’ve based both suites on the same concept?”
“We can, or we can simply use the approved plan for the lobby suite and this approach for the eighth floor. It depends on what your tenant wants.”
“You like this design better?” Did she like the damned thing? Her deadpan gave nothing away.
He took a breath. “Yes, I do, but it could be a little too, you know, much for some tenants.”
She stared at him, the crease still
“I’ll confess to not getting much sleep, but I appreciate the chance. I’m new, and this is the first time Willings has let me do something on my own.”
“I know just how that feels.”
“I’ll get out of here so you can talk to the client, but I would appreciate knowing her reaction.”
“You got it. I’ll call you.”
Rico stuck out his hand. “Thanks.”
Jim shook. “No. Thank you.”
Rico ran out as fast as he’d come in, and Jim started looking at the plans. He got through the whole set once when the door opened again. “Hello, Jim. Ready for lunch?”
Constance Murch looked different. Not quite so buttoned-down and businesslike, she’d worn a blue dress and higher heels. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders real smooth. She looked pretty, which was nice, and she’d obviously made an effort, which was scary. “Yes. Thanks.” But he’d made an extra effort too, putting on a pair of dark blue khakis and a long-sleeved shirt.
“I thought we’d go to the restaurant here in the building. Their food is good, and I made a reservation.”
He smiled. “I’m in your hands.”
That got a big grin out of her. “How nice.” She nodded at the papers in his hands. “Looks like you have something to show me.”
“Yeah. Just rough, but it’ll give you an idea of the approach.”
“Excellent. I can’t wait to see them. Let’s go get our table and we can talk.” She slipped an arm through his and led the way out the door.
As they walked, her boob pressed against his bicep. It was kind of nice. See, I really like women. She didn’t let go until they’d walked across the lobby, been shown to a table in the back of the pretty garden restaurant, and were seated. “Do you want iced tea, or shall we have some wine to celebrate our future collaborations?”
What the fuck did that mean? God, wine sounded good, and he didn’t even have to pay for it. “Uh, I’m working, so I better stick to tea.”
She nodded. “I like a serious man. Good.”
Had he passed some sort of test? He glanced at the menu. “I haven’t eaten here before. What’s good?”
“They have excellent salads.”
Yuck.
“And I’m told their burgers are memorable. You impress me as a burger man.” She smiled.
He grinned. “Then I impress you correctly.” He glanced at the list, and they had every kind of thing you could do to a burger, from avocado to wasabi.
The waiter arrived, and she ordered a salad and he got a burger with cheese plus sweet potato fries, which sounded weird, but Constance assured him were good. When the waiter left, she leaned forward, flashing more than a hint of cleavage. “So show me what you’ve got.”
That could be interpreted a lot of ways. He unfolded the drawings and spread them out on the tablecloth. “Since you liked the consultant’s sketch, my architect—” He almost laughed at the possessive. “—kept it in mind while working out these plans. Notice that he’s maintained the light and visibility but cut back on some of the expanses of glass, which should keep the costs down.” Oh man, he was full of shit, but that’s the way he saw it.
She stared at it with a crease between her light eyebrows. “Have you done a cost estimate?”
“No, ma’am. He just finished this rough this morning. But if you like the approach, I’ll get right on it.” His shirt should be jumping, his heart beat so hard.
“You’ve based both suites on the same concept?”
“We can, or we can simply use the approved plan for the lobby suite and this approach for the eighth floor. It depends on what your tenant wants.”
“You like this design better?” Did she like the damned thing? Her deadpan gave nothing away.
He took a breath. “Yes, I do, but it could be a little too, you know, much for some tenants.”
She stared at him, the crease still
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