Call It Business ( Book 3 of 'Call It' Series )

Chapter 83 | All about Failure

He hummed a skeptical sound, seemingly too immersed in her hair to actually listen to her. "I will tell you the only thing you failed at in a second, and you will blame that on me too," he murmured.

"Probably," she agreed, her lower lip puckering up in thought yet a playful glint took over her gaze as she stirred in her spot to get into a more comfortable position. "You are stupid, and I'm cursed. It makes me do a lot of sensible things."

"Sensible things?" Gerard repeated, a throaty chuckle mixed with confusion escaping his lips.

"Yeah," Macy repeated, nodding rapidly. Unable to bear not seeing his eyes anymore, she reached for his sunglasses. Taking them off, she put them on her eyes as she added, "Look, we are different, and you've probably already noticed that." She waved a dismissive hand, leaning into his touch seizing her waist with the perfect pace with the slow curl of his lips. "Anyway, I love living spontaneously, and you love making plans. Have you ever gone a day without a schedule? Because let me tell you, I was your assistant for a whole summer, sir, and your schedule has a schedule."

"And?" He inquired, his darkened gaze narrowing as if waiting for the upcoming attack of her words.

Yet there was none.

"Nothing," she announced, shrugging a playful shoulder and involuntarily drawing his eyes at the falling strap of her corset. "I've just found myself trying to keep up with your to-do list because you are stupid, and you kept involving me in your plans. Like, next week? I have a scheduled wedding. The week after that? The magazine goes for publication, and you will be so busy. I have a post-it note in my office reminding me of all the meetings you've canceled for the last month so that I can put them back on your schedule for the next month." She lowered her sunglasses on her nose to send his dark amusement a warning look. "Do you get how serious this is? I used a perfectly fine post-it note to track all the upcoming meetings, not for the last seen UFO coordinates, not for some mystical town with local legend, but for a meeting with Mr. Promote-My-Clothing-Line-or-Perish! Please," she groaned, rocked herself back in his lap in exasperation "I make sensible things now!"

His musical, husky laugh reverberated in the car, and he pulled her back to himself with the gentle dig of his fingers against her waist. She didn't let him insist on his unspoken demand and leaned forward to him again, pressing her palms in his hard chest.

"I strangely get the struggle, Miss Wallace," he muttered, a tantalizing tease in his voice just as his jade gaze wandered on her puffed cheeks. "After all, you manage to perfectly ruin every schedule of mine as soon as you walked into my office. Somehow, I have found myself coming up with random meetings back and forth just to get you to talk to me when you are mad at me, canceling a few contracts just because the 'vibes' were suspicious according to your witchy senses, and I knew the exact count of trees every time we were in a car together."

Yeah, the vibes were definitely suspicious at the moment and a bit dangerous, judging from the way her lips wouldn't stop twisting up at his implication filled with faux accusations and that mischievous dark glitter in his eyes.

"And I forced you, my assistant, to stay at my house for a week after we found out about Dusty Indigo," he pointed out, cocking an eyebrow. "Do you know that you could report me and jeopardize my career for doing that?"

"Yeah, but where is the fun in that?" Macy whispered in a taunting tease, tilting her head. Her lips quirked to the side, she narrowed her eyes at the neckline of his t-shirt and toyed with the fabric absently. "Besides, you can't force me to do anything, sir. I just," she shrugged again, "wanted to."

"Then," he drawled lazily, his fingers traveling upon her waist to find the falling strap on her shoulder and twisting it absently. "I somehow ended up having you as my wife, the Holding, three decades old mystery and," he muttered, motioning his head back to point out Foxy playing with the plush toy, "A child."