Billionaire's Contract Engagement Read Online Free PDF Page B

they do seem to spend a lot of time together.”
    “Of course they do. She’s his assistant,” Celia pointed out.
    “I just repeat what others are saying.”
    Celia gripped her briefcase a little tighter. It wouldn’t do her any good to get involved. Brock and Elle were adults. She just hoped Elle wasn’t hurt by the idle gossip.
    “Hey, Shelby,” Celia began as she remembered why she’d stopped to begin with. “I need you to look up a cleaning service.” She dug around in her briefcase then pulled out a sheetof paper that had all the names of the agencies Noah had already contacted. She handed it over the counter to Shelby. “These are the ones marked off the list of possibilities. I need you to make it clear this is a demanding client and that he’s a slob through and through. Money is no object but whoever the poor soul is who takes the job will definitely earn their paycheck.”
    Shelby’s eyes widened. “Noah Hart. The Noah Hart? He needs a housekeeper? I’m available. I mean, I can totally quit here, right?”
    Celia shot her a “get real” look. “Let me know if you find someone. Oh, and I’m expecting a call from Evan Reese’s assistant. I don’t care what I’m doing or who I’m with, make sure I get that call.”
    As she walked away, Shelby called out to her. “Hey, wait. How do you know Noah Hart? He’s not a client of Maddox.”
    Celia smiled and kept walking toward her office. Normally she’d stop in on some of her coworkers, say hello, get a feel for what the day’s events were, but she was already running late, thanks to a breakfast meeting going well into the brunch hour. She needed to play catch-up on phone messages and e-mails before a full afternoon of client calls and a staff meeting to close out the day.
    She’d made a sizeable dent in the backlog of messages when her interoffice intercom buzzed.
    “Celia, Mr. Reese is on line two.”
    Celia frowned. “Mr. Reese himself or Mr. Reese’s assistant?”
    “Mr. Reese.”
    “Put him through,” she said crisply.
    She wiped her hand on her skirt then shook her head. What did she have to be nervous about? As soon as the phone rang, she picked it up.
    “Celia Taylor.”
    “Celia, how are you?”
    Even his voice sent a bolt of awareness through her body. When would she stop acting like a teenage girl in the throes of her first sexual awakening? It was ridiculous. It wasn’t professional.
    “I’m good, Evan. And you?”
    “I don’t have a lot of time. I wanted to meet for lunch today. That is, if your schedule permits?”
    There was a note of confidence in his voice. He knew damn well she wouldn’t say no. Hastily, she checked the clock.
    “What time?”
    “Now.”
    Panic scuttled around her stomach. Now? She wasn’t prepared to meet him now. Surely he didn’t want to reschedule their informal pitch session from Friday to now?
    “I thought we had a lunch date on Friday?”
    She was stalling as her brain scrambled to catch up. “I want to discuss Friday today. There’s been a change of plans.”
    Her heart sank. There was no way she could have her act together right now.
    “I only have forty-five minutes,” he continued. “We’re two blocks apart. Shall we meet in the middle? Our choices are French, Italian or good ole American.”
    “I’m up for anything,” she said faintly.
    She propped the phone between her shoulder and her ear and began frantically digging for her notes on his account. She stuffed everything into a folder and reached for her briefcase.
    “Great. Shall we meet in say five minutes? I’ll start out now.”
    “Sure, meet you there.”
    He hung up and for a moment she stood there like a moron, the phone still stuck to her ear. Then she slammed it down, took in a deep steadying breath and declared battle.
    She could do this in her sleep.
    Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she all but jogged out of her office and down the hallway.
    She passed Ash Williams, Maddox’s CFO, who held up a finger