Reese was still pursing his lips in thought when Bobbie cut in. "Mr. Crane?"
"Yes," he said, dropping the phone on his desk and meeting her eyes. She'd come in here to review his schedule for next week and probably thought he was ignoring her. But he'd heard every word. And now Merina's message had changed a few things. "Next week's meeting times work, but I need you to reschedule my lunch appointment tomorrow and arrange a meeting with Merina Van Heusen and Penelope Brand instead."
Bobbie's eyebrows shot up, but she didn't argue. "Very well. Here in your office?"
"Yes. No," he amended quickly. "We'll use the conference room. And have my lawyer swing by later this afternoon. I have a contract that needs his immediate attention." He wanted that prenup finalized. The fewer delays the better.
"Yes, sir." Bobbie left his office and Reese leaned back in his leather high-back and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair.
Merina was going to marry him. Looked like she was on board, and that gave him a sense of satisfaction. He knew she'd see things his way.
"Reese's Rocket," Tag announced, barging through Reese's office door. His grin was shit-eating, his beard neatly trimmed for a change, and his clothes just what Reese had come to expect.
"Henley and cargo pants. Are you working on the water heater?"
Tag waggled his phone. "That's one helluva hashtag."
"What are you talking about?" Reese turned his attention to the stack of phone calls he had to return. Bobbie still insisted on jotting down phone numbers of callers on those WHILE YOU WERE OUT papers he hated so much. He had a trashcan filled with wadded up pink notes. "I need to buy Bobbie an iPad."
"She'd use it as a coaster. She wouldn't know what to do with it," Tag said.
"Fact," Reese agreed.
Tag plopped into the guest chair and leaned back, legs spread, mouth still grinning. Giving up the ghost, Reese dropped his stack of missed phone calls and said, "Out with it."
"There are photos of your junk."
"Pardon?"
"Well, not your junk," Tag said, shaking his head at his phone's screen. "But the outline of your junk. You either need a better tailor or you need to start wearing briefs." He tossed his phone onto the desk. Reese lifted the device and found a photo of him, cropped to showcase one particular part of him. His…pants. The poster had drawn a giant red circle around Reese's junk and added an arrow and three exclamation marks. The hashtag next to it read #ReesesRocket.
Reese's…Rocket? Seriously?
Fantastic." Reese handed back the phone. "On the list of things I do not need, at the top is press focused on my reputation for—"
"Man-whoring?"
"Dating."
"It is fantastic, actually. You can't buy this kind of press. Who's with you?" Tag held the phone up again.
"I went out with Elaine Parker's daughter, Primrose." Reese recognized his suit and the swish of blue dress cut out of the edge of the photo from a charity event last year. He knew exactly who was responsible for this.
"Ah. Primrose. She's young, dumb, and full of—"
"Money," Reese finished for him. Primrose was the "cute niece of that famous designer" Merina had mentioned the other night. She had asked him to attend the event with her, which he would have turned down if it wasn't a charity with Crane Hotels front and center. Turned out she was clingier than he would have expected. Primrose hadn't stopped calling him for four months. And now this.
"Well, she ain't mad at you," his brother said with another grin.
No, she was apparently trying to draw his attention because he was paying her none. "It's not exactly a compliment."
Tag's smile disappeared and he held up a hand. "Excuse me. If she called your dick 'Reese's Rodent,' that wouldn't be a compliment. 'Reese's Rocket' insists you know how to use it. That it's a thing of power." He made a fist.
"For the love of— I didn't even sleep with her." He wasn't that lonely. She was too young. Too wide-eyed and too hopeful for his taste. She wasn't the kind of girl who could handle a one-night stand. Hell, they had ended the evening with a chaste kiss and she still tried for a second date. At least this confirmed his instincts were spot-on.
"It doesn't seem to matter," Tag commented, shaking his head at his phone's screen.
"Is this the only reason you came in here?" Reese asked.
"Yeah." Tag offered a shrug as if it was obvious.
Reese's phone lit and he glanced from his brother to a reminder for the lunch tomorrow he'd asked Bobbie to reschedule. She'd probably come in here with a pink slip giving him the details of the new meeting date in a few minutes; then he could tap it into his iPhone and add to the pink trash pile. Glancing back at his brother, Reese thought of the last text message that was on his phone.
"When a woman says 'fine'…," he started.
"Run." Tag's smug expression fell as he sat ramrod straight. "Like you have zombies on your tail. 'Fine' is not a term of endearment from a woman."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Tag's eyes went to Reese's phone. "Who gave you the F-word?"
"Merina. In answer to my marriage proposal." He leaned on his desk, hands folded. "I'm assuming that's a yes."
"You should assume the position, man. That does not sound like a good sign."
Reese let loose a smile. "We're both business professionals. I'm sure she meant what it says. That she looked over the contract and it was…fine."
"Contract." Tag sucked air through his teeth. "You are not a romantic, are you?"
"And you are?"
"Don Juan over here." Tag gestured to the off-white Henley hugging his biceps. If he had a hashtag, it'd be Tag's Tanks. That was a good one, actually. Maybe if that went viral, everyone could talk about him instead. "You two get married, Merina will be the one answering for your 'rocket' to the press, not you.