Fishing my cellphone out, I dropped my purse into the bottom drawer of the massive and incredibly overpriced desk, and placed the palms of my hands onto its distressed white surface.
“He’s so hot,” Kevin continued without delay. “I mean, I follow him on Instagram, but wow-ee! I want little blonde Abercrombie babies with him,” he rattled on, waving his hands in the air. “And Man Bun is like yum with a shot of dangerous, like you just know he’d wake up your neighbours. I’d like to call him Daddy—”
“Jesus.” I shook my head.
Kevin stirred, pulling his perfectly crafted eyebrows together. “What’s he doing here anyways? Are we planning one of his parties?”
Beau Callaway was notoriously known for hosting some of the best campaign parties.
“No. He’s expressed interest in sponsoring the Gala.”
Uncrossing his legs, Kevin’s eyes softened as he leaned forward. “The Gala is this Saturday. Can we manage another sponsor this late in the game?”
The emotions on my face war—they often did this close to the gala—and he noticed. Kevin was as perceptive as he was fabulous.
“Right then. I’ll make it work.” He stood. “Want me to fetch the dream boat for you, boss?”
I nodded. “Please.”
Without another word, he sashayed out the door and my nerves filled up the space he left behind.
I was nervous. Men in general made me nervous until I knew my way around them, but having someone like Beau in my space and here, regarding the gala no less, made me edgy.
I didn’t often mix business with pleasure, as I was messy with one and not the other. Though it’d been nearly three months since my last duet with a man and I was jonesing for a high this close to the gala.
The gala that honoured the memory of Henry.
My addiction prickled at the back of my neck.