Abby stares at the clock on the wall, grinning. Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes she gets to leave, to go outside where Mike will be waiting for her. Dinner, and then…? Abby bites her lip, trying not to let her excitement boil over.

"Abby?" Even the sound of Tom's voice can't dampen how she's feeling.

"Abby?" he repeats.

"Yes?"

"I have great news. Travis Denham has flown in from Miami this afternoon and he wants to meet us to discuss the account. We're meeting at his hotel in fifteen minutes."

"I can't—I—"

"What, you have other plans? Well, I'm sorry, Miss Davies. Do you need me to take you off the account so that it doesn't interfere with your questionable social life?"

Abby sighs. There is no one she wants to see right now more than Mike. The thought of his smile, his smell, the way he speaks… But the Denham account is the break she's been waiting for, and could make her career. With that kind of account on her resume, she knows she can get a job at any accounting firm in the country.

"No," Abby says. "I'm fine. I can go."

"Good. Go freshen yourself up and meet me downstairs in two minutes."

"Yes, boss."

As Tom walks away, Abby picks up the phone to call Mike, but puts the receiver back down a second later. Her stomach is flipping over violently—she can't face the sound of his voice right now. Instead she takes out her cell and sends a message.

I'm so sorry, I can't come tonight. We have a meeting with a major client and I can't miss it or I might lose my job. Can we reschedule?

She puts her phone in her bag and pulls out a small mirror, checking the makeup she put on just for Mike. She hopes Travis Denham is worth the trouble.

Abby walks into the Seminole hotel, two steps behind Tom. He looks ridiculously out of place amongst the hip decor, next to the young and fresh patrons. Abby stays behind him, terrified someone might think they're together.

They get into the elevator, thankfully alone.

"Remember, let me do most of the talking," Tom says. "I want us to make a good impression."

Maybe you should have changed your shirt then, Abby thinks. But she just smiles and nods.

They get off the elevator and walk up a door that says "Roxy". Tom knocks, six times. Abby stifles a laugh at his awkwardness—from what she knows of Mr Denham, this is going to be interesting.

A few seconds later, the door opens. Abby has seen photos of Travis online, and in the paper, but they don't do him justice. He's tall—at least six foot two—with black hair perfectly slicked back. He has the face of an old-Hollywood movie star, and he's dressed immaculately in a navy suit.

He smiles, flashing perfect teeth. "Tom Sanders?"

"Yes, Mr Denham, Sir. My name is Tom, Tom Sanders."

Travis laughs. "Come in, Tom Tom."

Tom walks into the room and Travis turns his attention to Abby. "And you are?"

"I'm Abby Davies. I'm assisting Tom Tom on your account."

Leaning against the doorframe, Travis smiles. He lowers his voice. "Thank God. That guy looks like a headache and a half."

"You have no idea, Mr Denham."

"Call me Travis. And come in."

Abby walks into the suite. Tom has already taken a seat at the dining table, and opened his briefcase. He's shuffling through the mess of papers inside.

Travis walks to the bar and pours himself a whiskey. "Would either of you like a drink?"

"No, sir," Tom says. "We never drink on the job."

Abby sits down next to Tom at the table. "I'll have a whiskey."

"That's what I like to hear!" Travis says.

Tom kicks her, hard. "What are you doing?" he whispers.

"I'm bonding with the client," Abby whispers back.

Travis pours a second whiskey, then brings both to the table and sits down.

"So, here's the deal," Travis says. "My parents have worked hard their entire lives, to build our empire out of nothing. They deserve to take a break, to relax and enjoy what they've built. So they're going to start taking a step back in the business, and I'm going to be taking over most of the operation. Our last accountants were useless, which is why we signed on with you last week. I have a very hands-on approach to the business, and it's important to me to know what's going on at all times. I need to trust that I can contact someone at your company any hour of the day to discuss our account. Can you handle that?"

Tom nods vigorously. "Of course, Mr Denham."

"Who's my point guy on the account?" Travis asks.

Abby raises her hand. "That would be me."

"And you're alright with this? I need to be able to contact you any time. That's non-negotiable."

Abby smiles and takes a business card out of her bag. She picks up a pen and writes on it.

"This is my work number, that's my cell, and that's my home number. Call whenever you need to."

Travis considers her for a while. "Alright. I like this, I think it's going to work. Now, Tom Tom, have you looked over the acquisition plans I sent today?"

"Yes, Sir. I ran the numbers on it myself. I have thirty years experience in corporate accounting, I'm not sure if you knew that."

"I think you mentioned it in your emails. Once or twice."

"Well, from the information you gave me, I have to advise against it. I can understand the appeal of owning a small airline, of course, but T5 Air have been steadily losing money every single quarter since they launched. I have no idea how they've even stayed afloat this long. And you have to think about the outgoings—they're astronomical."

Travis claps his hands. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."

Tom exhales. "Great. I think it would have been a big mistake to acquire it."

"Oh, I'm still buying it," Travis says. "I'm just glad you're advising against it. That's what a good accountant would do."

Abby laughs, and Tom kicks her again. She takes a sip of her whiskey.

Tom clears his throat. "Mr Denham, I have to strongly advise—"

"What do you think, Abby?" Travis says.

"I agree with Tom that it's a bad investment," Abby says. "But I have a feeling you've got deeper reasons than just financial. I'm interested in finding out more about your plans for it."

Travis nods. "Alright, Tom. You can go. I'm going to need those reports we talked about by 10am."

"Yes, sir," Tom says.

"And I'm going to need Abby to stay for a while to discuss the T5 acquisition."

"Uh, if she's alright with that—"

"I'm fine with that," Abby says.

Travis stares at Tom, eyebrow raised, until he slinks out of the room and shuts the door behind him.

"He's definitely a headache," Travis says. "I have a sixth sense for that kind of thing. I have no idea how you work so closely with him."

"That's life," Abby says. She suddenly feels uncomfortable, alone in the room with Travis. "You wanted to discuss T5?"

Grinning, Travis takes a sip of his drink. "You're right about my reasons. They're not financial. Not entirely, anyway."

"Are you going to tell me what they are?"

"No." Travis leans across the table and brushes a stray piece of hair off Abby's face. "I'm going to show you. Let me get my things."

Travis walks into the bedroom, and it's only then that Abby thinks to check her phone. Her heart beats faster when she sees the little message icon—a text from Mike.

Of course, I understand. But just so you know, I'm going to be thinking about you all night, while you're at your boring meeting. Thinking about you, and planning our next date. xx Mike.

"Are you ready?" Travis says.

Abby quickly puts her phone away. She smiles. "Yes, let's go."