“You look tense.” George stepped behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders, his thumbs digging in at the bottom of my neck.
I bent into his touch, unable to help the sigh that escaped me. “So would you if you’d had the night I have.”
“Same again.” He nodded at the bartender and sat me on a stool. “Let me guess. You got the soap allergy story too?”
I turned. A small smile played on my lips. “For real? He told you too?”
“Oh yes. He wants us to do his marketing.”
“No wonder his wife was so far up my ass she could see my brain,” I muttered.
George laughed, a rich sound that curled my toes. “Gina,” he admonished. There was nothing to it. He was merely masking his amusement. “Behave.”
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