Always A Pleasure [Book 2]

Thirty-Four

Harrison had read the same line over and over of the twenty page document he was supposed to be analyzing for his next meeting. His mind was preoccupied by the woman he hadn't been able to stop thinking about for nearly a year.

Katherine.

Being away from her had only multiplied and intensified those thoughts to an intrusive degree. But to be fair, he wasn't supposed to be 6,700 miles away from her. His father had certainly knocked him sideways with his unyielding wickedness. It was a new low, even for him.

Harrison and Katherine were supposed to be naked on their island in the throes of passion. He wasn't supposed to be aching for the next text or call, anticipating any sort of connection they could manage through fourteen time zones.

He couldn't keep his mind off of memories of their time in Bora Bora. He had never felt such happiness, such peace. Every smile on Katherine's face or look of desire in her eyes seemed to be burned into his memory, and those memories were on repeat in his mind, absolutely tormenting him. He wanted to be with his angel. He wanted infinite more memories of her happiness, her affection.

Harrison wanted to do something for Katherine to let her know he was thinking of her even when he couldn't be with her. He wanted to show her how much he missed her, but he was coming up short of ideas. Then he recalled her fondness for those little white flowers that grew nearly everywhere on the island— frangipani.

She had researched the flower upon arrival because she thought it was beautiful. Harrison remembered picking her one of the flowers and she immediately stuck it behind her left ear, telling him that in Polynesian culture, putting the flower behind the left ear meant that a woman was taken.

You're mine and I'm only yours, he had said to her.

He was then reminded that the boat driver had given her a bouquet of Tahitian wildflowers along with their delivery on New Year's Eve. Her smile had brightened her whole entire face. She looked so beautifully happy in that moment, it made him want to do the same for her, but romantically.

Harrison quickly grabbed his phone from the desk in the hotel room and found Roberts' name in his contacts before connecting the call. When he answered, Harrison told him to meet him in his hotel room with haste.

Less than a minute later, Roberts was standing at his door ready for direction.

"I have a question," Harrison told him as the two of them walked deeper into the large suite that he occupied that week.

"Yes, sir," Roberts said obediently as Harrison faced him once again.

"This may seem odd—"

"Odd?" Roberts questioned, looking a bit confused.

"Yes. Do you ever send your wife flowers?"

Harrison recognized the momentary look of bewilderment on Roberts' face before he quickly recovered his stoic gaze and nodded his head.

"Yes, sir. I do send my wife flowers. Quite regularly, if I'm honest," Roberts answered.

"How regularly?" Harrison inquired, feeling completely inept as a boyfriend. He had no idea about such things when other men easily knew of ways to make their lovers happy.

"I don't allow more than a fortnight to pass before I bring home a bouquet, sir. Or I have one sent if I'm particularly busy that week," Roberts explained.

"No more than a fortnight?"

"If I'm honest, it is usually much sooner than a fortnight, sir. Just no later," Roberts elaborated.