Текст книги "Beauty and the Boss"

Автор книги: Diane Alberts

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

“I think you’ve become that.” He smiled. “That’s how you made this happen tonight. You researched, right?”

“Seriously. I was just trying to give you a good night,” she said quickly. “It was nothing.”

“If you want it to be nothing,” he said slowly, locking gazes with her. “It can be nothing. Or, it can be something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you don’t want more, I’ll make sure you never find out how much I want to kiss you again, or how it’s all I think about. I’ll stop telling you that what you did for me tonight means something, something real, and I’ll act like I don’t give a shit.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m good at that. I’ve had a lot of practice at hiding what I think and feel.”

“I’d never want that.” She shook her head. “Don’t hide your feelings from me.”

He smiled slightly. “Fine. You want honesty?”

“Uh…” She hesitated, but nodded. “Sure. Go for it.”

“In just these few short days, you’ve made me feel things I wasn’t sure I could anymore, and I think you could do a hell of a lot more, if we both let you.”

“Benjamin—”

“I know. I know.” He let go of her. “You’re not interested. But I had to say it. For the first time in years, I want to lay it all out there, in the open for all to see, because you deserve nothing less.”

“Why do you feel like you have to hide your emotions at all?” she asked.

He sucked in a breath, watching her. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this conversation.

She must have seen the panic in his eyes. “Never mind. It’s—”

“No.” He reached out and rested a hand on hers. “My father had a heart attack. While they rushed him to the hospital, I was out drinking and getting laid. I didn’t even make it home before he died, and ever since, I’ve been trying to make up for that. I never will, but it doesn’t keep me from trying.”

She watched him closely, as if everything suddenly made sense to her. As if she understood him better now, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. And that uncertainty in the face of opening up to someone was what a real date was supposed to be like. “That wasn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing he would die that night.”

She was wrong. It was his fault. “It doesn’t matter. That’s in the past. I want to talk about now.” He cupped her cheek and gave her a small smile. “And right now? I want you. I want you so damn bad it hurts. And not just because I want to fuck you. I want all of you, Maggie.”

“I…” Her lids drifted shut, and she let out a small, almost broken sound. “I’m not sure what to say.”

Something stabbed him in the chest, sending a piercing phantom pain throughout his body. He’d known she didn’t want him, but it still hurt. “Do you want me to take it back? To pretend this conversation never happened?”

“I—no.” She hesitated, but shook her head. “I don’t want that at all.”

A strong surge of gratification rushed through him. He’d given her an out, and she hadn’t taken it. “How about this? We treat this whole going out and spending time together like a real thing between us—not romantic, necessarily, but friends. I like you, Maggie, and I want to be your friend.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded once. “I’d like that, Benjamin.”

“Then let’s be real with one another and see where things go. If they turn romantic, we’ll deal with that when it comes.” He shrugged. “But if we stay just friends for the rest of our lives, and only friends, I’m fine with that, too. But I’m not going to lie. I’m hoping for more. And I think you are, too.”

And he would stop at nothing to make sure they both got what they wanted.

She bit the corner of her lower lip. “This thing wouldn’t work. You’re from a different world than I am. We might be able to make it work for the short-term, fake engagement, but real feelings? It would never hold. Statistically speaking, we’re—”

“Do you always read the end of the book before the beginning?”

She lowered her head and peeled her label off her beer. “Well, actually, yeah. I do. Every time.”

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

She shrugged, still staring down at her bottle. “So I know what to expect. I like advance warning, so I don’t get attached to anyone or anything that doesn’t make it to the end.”

“That might work in fiction, but in real life?” He caught her hand, stopping her from peeling the label off any more than she already had. “You can’t skip ahead to the end, especially not with us. There’s no way in hell to know how it’ll end.”

“But—” Her fingers curled into a fist inside his. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

“We’ll take it slow. Real slow. Spend time together. Start at the beginning of our story, and we’ll figure out the end when we get there.” He gave her a small smile. “So, what do you say? Do you want to read our story with me?”

She laughed. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m saying this…but yes. Slowly. As friends.”

“Excellent.” He grinned, resisting the urge to pick her up and kiss her. He’d just gotten her agreement to give him a chance to—hell, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing when it came to Maggie. But he’d figure it out as he went, like he’d said. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles. “I can’t wait to get to the sex scenes, though. I assure you, they’ll be worth a second read.”

She laughed, throwing her head back. It was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard, hands down. “You’re incorrigible, Benji.”

He scowled. “About that name—”

“I tried it on for size because it felt right.” She shot him a cocky grin and finished off her beer. The crowds around them had thinned out. “I was right. It stays.”

“Fine, darling.” He stood up and helped her to her feet, holding on to both of her hands. His blood rushed hotter when she didn’t immediately move away. “If it stays, so does this.”

Lowering his head, he gave her plenty of time to back off, or turn away. She didn’t. She actually fisted his jacket and tugged him closer, so he melded his mouth to hers. He kept the kiss sweet and short, not wanting to push her too hard or too fast. When he pulled back, his entire body protesting the motion, he rested his forehead on hers.

Her breasts touched his chest, and she clung to him. It took every ounce of his self-control not to press closer to her. To not take more than a damn kiss.

Being with her, holding her in his arms, made everything thing seem brighter. Happier. Shinier. He had no fucking idea what any of that meant, but there was no denying it anymore. He’d never wanted to have someone so badly before, and that definitely meant something, so he’d keep his hands to himself. Keep his eye on the goal. Be patient. Caring. Understanding.

And in the end…he’d win.

Chapter Eight

Four days.

That was how long she and Benjamin had been hanging out, after agreeing at the hockey game to become friends for real, after becoming fake engaged. Backward, yes, but whatever. It was working…as long as she ignored the fact that she wanted him so much it physically hurt. Which was stupid.

She’d always been good at making logical decisions. She never made a choice without thinking through all the details and possibilities. Some might even say she overanalyzed everything—and they’d be right. She totally did.

Except when it came to Benjamin Gale.

When it came to him, she wasn’t rational at all.

They’d spent the last few days getting to know one another. Turned out, they had a lot more in common than being workaholics. They both liked hockey and basketball, and cats more than dogs. They preferred dark chocolate, and when he laughed, it made her think that maybe she was crazy for holding herself away from him.

She liked him. A lot.

Which was why she was so screwed.

They hadn’t kissed or done anything that wasn’t strictly on a “just friends” level since the night of the hockey game. He’d been one hundred percent proper at all times. If she was honest with herself, she missed the way he used to be. She’d give anything to have him look at her as if he wanted nothing more than to see what she wore underneath her skirts and blouses. She couldn’t think about anything else but finding out what lay beneath those suits.

The office quieted, so she glanced up.

If they were quiet, that meant…

“Hey,” Benjamin said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine like always. He wore a navy blue suit, a green shirt, and a striped gray tie. He looked as impeccably handsome as ever, and her stomach tightened at his proximity. Resting his big, calloused hands on her desk, he leaned close, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. “Shouldn’t you be gone by now, getting ready for tonight?”

She swallowed and set down her pen. Tonight was her debut in his world, at the mayor’s freaking ball. No pressure or anything. It wasn’t as if she was meeting anyone important, or being seen by anyone important. Just, ya know…

The Mayor of New York freaking City.

“I think this is a horrible idea,” she said for what had to be the billionth time.

He sighed. “So you keep saying. And as I keep saying, you’ll do fine. Did you use my card to get your outfit?”

“Yes. But—”

He rubbed his jaw. “It’s red, right?”

“Yes.”

A quick nod of his head. “I’ll wear my red bowtie.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” She stood and tossed her glasses on the desk. “I’ll make a fool out of myself, and you, and you’ll regret ever asking—”

He held a hand up, his jaw flexing. “You can stop that sentence right now, because I already told you I don’t regret a damn thing. Go home. Start getting ready.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“And you’re procrastinating by trying to pick a fight.” He straightened her computer, and folded her reading glasses on top of it. He hated when things were out of order—she’d learned that about him, too. “It won’t work, because you’re too adorable to annoy me.”

She smiled for the first time that day. She couldn’t help it. “Benji.”

“Not even that annoying nickname will work tonight.” Lowering his head, he straightened her pens in color-coded order.

Licking her lips, she watched as his long fingers moved over her stuff. Her breath quickened, and her pulse sped up. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

He snorted. “The hell I can’t.”

Not answering, she stared at those fingers with a thirst that wouldn’t be quenched, and more than anything, she wanted them on her—not her pens. The more time she spent with him, the stronger the thirst became.

“Now go—” When he lifted his head again, he froze. “Stop looking at me like that.”

She tilted her head. “Like what?”

He leaned in even closer, and her heart picked up even more speed. His eyes sparked, igniting a primal urge inside of her, and he whispered for her ears only, “Like you want to get me naked, and once and for all stop this ‘just friends’ bullshit we’re both suffering through.”

She grasped the edge of her desk so hard it hurt. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you are. I—” He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened, because everyone was watching them. Big shocker there. “Just go home and get ready. I’ll pick you up in two hours, and you’ll look gorgeous.”

“But—”

He pointed to the door. “Go.”

“Fine.” Frowning, she picked up her jacket and purse, her legs trembling. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He didn’t reply, just scowled at her like the beast that people assumed he was. She huffed one last time and left, his stare burning into her back. As soon as she was in the elevator, she pulled out her phone. On my way home.

Becca texted back quickly. I just left the office, too, and picked up some new makeup with that card. Meet you there.

How was work?

Again, her phone buzzed with Becca’s response. Boring. Some asshole wasn’t sure what he wanted for his campaign, and I spent hours discussing the merits of billboard advertising versus online.

Maggie winced. Sounds fun.

Oh yeah. So much. The little bubble with three dots appeared. I can’t wait to go out with Patrick later. I need a distraction.

Still seeing him?

For now. I’m not bored yet. Still avoiding admitting you want your billionaire?

The elevator doors opened. Yep. Okay, I have to go. See you there.

By the time she actually got to their apartment twenty minutes later, Becca waited for her outside their door. She had a brown bag in one hand, and a makeup kit in the other. Her long red hair blew in the breeze. When she saw Maggie, she straightened and held up the hand with the brown bag. “I brought vodka to go with the makeup.”

“Good. I need it. Why are you outside? You live here, too.”

“I was enjoying the sun. It’s been a while since we had a nice day, and after being in the office all day…” Becca shrugged. “It felt good.”

She looked up at the blue sky. The sun shone through the skyscrapers and clouds, right onto them. “It is really nice out.”

“Yeah.” Her best friend pushed off the wall and unlocked the door. “And you were too busy panicking to notice. Why are you so nervous, anyway? It’s just a stupid party.”

“It’s not just a party. It’s the first test—we have to sell this whole thing tonight.”

Becca shrugged. “It’ll be fine. It’s not like they’ll be giving you a lie detector to see if your relationship is legit. All you have to do is drink free booze, hold his hand, and act like you’re in love with a guy you haven’t stopped blabbering on about all week long. It shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”

“No, it’s not, and that’s exactly why I don’t want to go.”

Becca blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Benjamin and I are only friends, and I really need it to stay that way, no matter what my stupid ovaries want. But we haven’t even kissed in four days—which is why I need the drink,” she said, snatching the bottle from her friend’s hand and heading into the kitchen. “Because, God, I want him, Becca. I want him bad.”

“No kidding,” Becca said drily.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.” She pushed her red hair out of her face. “Always have been, when it comes to men.”

Maggie frowned and pulled out two shot glasses. “Gee, thanks.”

“You overanalyze everything, and push every interested man out of the picture before they even have a chance to mess up.” Becca hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs. “It’s your MO”

“That’s because none of them ever make sense,” Maggie argued, pouring two shots. “Why waste my time when they never add up on paper?”

Her best friend shrugged. “And they never will. Which is why you do it, if you ask me. It gives you an excuse to get rid of them before they get too close and hurt you, like those other jerks did when you first moved here.”

That hit uncomfortably close to home. “That’s not true. It’s not my fault the men I’ve dated aren’t committed enough to prove me wrong.”

“You’ve been trying to keep this CEO of yours at a distance, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” She tossed back the shot. “And?”

“And he hasn’t given up yet.” Becca joined her, downing the vodka. “Maybe he’s the guy you’ve been waiting for. The one who will fight for you.”

But what if he did? What if she let him win? They would sleep together, have a little fun, and when he realized the two of them didn’t make sense together—as he inevitably would—he would move on. She’d be left working for a man who no longer acted as if she existed, and she’d have a front row seat to all the society girls he paraded in front of her.

Maggie groaned. “You’re not helping matters. I’m supposed to listen to my head, not you, not my ovaries, and certainly not my heart.”

“If you ask me, you’ve done enough listening to your head. Maybe it’s time to try something new,” she argued, holding her hands up when Maggie scowled at her. “You could do worse than a rich CEO. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He doesn’t show any emotion. Like, ever.” She set the shot glass down. She refilled the glass and picked it up, glaring down at the ring it left on her counter. “I can never even begin to guess what he’s thinking. It’s infuriating.”

“So ask him.”

She snorted. “And when we break up—”

“You’re not even together yet.” Becca sighed and jumped off the counter. “You need to stop guessing how it’s going to end, and enjoy the ride.”

“Ugh. You sound like him.”

“Then he’s a smart man,” she said, picking up the new makeup she’d stopped at the store to get. She steered Maggie toward the bedroom, her hands on her shoulders as she propelled her forward. “Listen to us.”

“Like you listened to me when I told you Patrick was a bad idea?”

The other woman shrugged, not meeting Maggie’s eyes. “Yeah, he’s a bad idea. That’s why I picked him.”

“But—”

“Uh uh.” She pointed at Maggie. “This is my lecture, not yours. You have a rich hottie who wants to become your friend before getting in your pants, which is practically unheard of in the dating world nowadays, and you’re too busy worrying what other people will think of you to enjoy it.”

Well, when she said it like that…screw them. Screw everything. Maggie was gonna have some fun with Benjamin, and stop stressing so much.

Maybe it was the booze, or the pep talk, but Becca was right. She had spent her whole life not caring what people thought of her. Why should that change now? What was it about Benjamin, and his witch of a mother, that brought out the worst in her? Whatever it was, she was over it.

And she was done pushing Benjamin away, too.

Becca was right. It was time to take a leap of faith, for once in her life, and hope for the best. Maybe it was time to stop thinking so much, and start doing.

Turning, she hugged her best friend close. “I love you. What would I do without you here to tell me off?”

“I’m not sure.” Becca kissed the side of her head. “But lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. You ready to kick some rich ass now?”

“Yep.” Grinning, she snapped her fingers. “Let’s do this. Make me a princess.”

Chapter Nine

Benjamin frowned at Maggie’s brownstone, his heart pounding harder than a racehorse’s hooves in the home stretch at the Kentucky Derby. He hadn’t been this nervous since… ever. He’d never been the anxious type, not even when he was younger. If shit needed to get done, he did it. If it was going to be a rough night, he grinned and bullshitted his way through it.

His mother had made it perfectly clear he was expected to bring someone proper to the party—and drop his “fiancée” like a hot potato—or he’d pay the price. He’d kindly told her to go to hell, and that he would bring Maggie to the party, and she would deal with it. But now that the moment was here, his palms were sweating, his heart was racing, and he felt as if he’d just finished running ten miles at the gym.

The second he brought Maggie into his world, she’d be subjected to all the petty snarkiness that was served in heaping portions at these events, alongside the champagne and caviar…which he probably should have thought about earlier, but he’d been too caught up in the plan.

Too caught up in her. In how she made him feel.

She had a hold on him that he couldn’t escape or deny, and he’d stopped trying a while ago. He wasn’t going to confess his undying love for her, or anything so dramatic as that. That was still a foreign emotion he wasn’t sure existed. But she was funny, kind, smart, and beautiful in every way. And the more time he spent with her, the more he became susceptible to those qualities. It was like she was slowly weaving a spell over him, dragging him further and further underwater until he ran out of breath and stopped fighting.

But she wanted to be friends, and he’d been cooling his heels for a week. He was starting to think he might need to be rescued via copter before he died in the damn friend zone she’d cursed him to. But he’d be fine. They would both be fine. If he said that enough times, he might actually believe it.

Pigs might fly, too. The world was full of surprises.

His driver opened the door, and Benjamin slid out of the seat, holding the flowers he’d gotten her close to his chest. Tugging at his red bowtie, he walked up her stairs, smoothed his tux, and knocked. Almost immediately, the door opened. He smiled, but it faded when he noticed it was a redhead who answered, not his Maggie.

After glancing at the number of the brownstone to make sure he was at the right building and knocking on the right door, since they were all the same on this block, he turned back to the woman in the door. “Hello. You must be Maggie’s roommate. I’m—?”

“Damn.” The redhead looked him up and down. “She didn’t say you were this hot.”

“Uh…” Yeah. He had nothing to say to that. He held his hand out politely. “I’m Benjamin Gale the third. And you are…?”

“The third, huh? Wow. So official sounding,” the woman said, laughing lightly and shaking his hand before letting go. She picked up her purse and smiled. “I’m Becca Marigold, the first, and I was just leaving for my own date. Maggie’s in her room finishing up, so she’ll be out in a minute.”

He bowed and moved out of her way, still holding the flowers to his chest. “It was lovely meeting you, Ms. Marigold.”

“Likewise,” she said drily. “Good call on the flowers. She hates roses.”

He glanced down at them. Damn, he’d really screwed up on that first date. Wrong restaurant. Wrong flowers. Wrong everything. It was a miracle she’d agreed to give him a second chance, and it only went to show how incredible she was, and that he didn’t deserve her. “Thanks.”

After shooting him one last look, the woman let the door close behind her.

He was alone in Maggie’s living room. Glancing around, he swallowed hard. The whole place, while clean, was best described as organized chaos. Pillows lay askew on the couch, and she had books and magazines strewn all over the place in no semblance of order. There were empty mugs sitting on the coffee table, and a few blankets tossed here and there.

His fingers twitched. “Maggie? I’m here.”

“I’ll be out in a second. Make yourself comfortable,” she called out.

He eyed the sofa and took a deep breath. When the door opened and she came out, he was sitting on the couch with the flowers resting on his thighs. The second he saw her, all thought fled. She walked into the room in a red dress that clung to her every curve. It had beaded lace overlaying the material underneath, and her long brown hair fell around her bare shoulders in soft, gentle waves.

Her red lips matched her dress, and she clutched a small black purse in front of her. Her white knuckles betrayed her nerves, and he wanted to kiss her so much it hurt him not to do so. Not trusting himself to speak, he examined her and tried to find logical words to say. He failed horribly.

She was too beautiful for mere words.

Shifting on her feet, she nibbled on her lip. “Are you going to say something? Anything? Will I pass for your impoverished fiancée?”

“Yes—” His voice croaked, so he cleared his throat and stood awkwardly, still not able to look away. He’d never seen anyone more stunning than her, and never would. Of that he was sure. “Yes. You…you look exquisite.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed slightly and her knuckles went a little less white on her clutch. “Are those for me?”

“Is what for you?”

Her lips twitched. “The flowers in your hands.”

“Oh.” Surprised, he glanced down. They’d slipped his mind the second she stepped into the room. What the hell did flowers matter when Maggie was there, smiling at him and looking as if she came straight out of a dream? “Yes, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her smile widening. Those freckles of hers danced, making her all the more delectable. She took the bouquet from him and lifted them to her nose. Inhaling deeply, hugged them to her chest. “Snowbells. Good guess—I love these.”

“I didn’t guess.” He’d never been so jealous of flowers in his life. “You told me you liked them last week.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “You remembered?”

“Well, yeah.” He scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I told you I’d try to do bett—oof.”

Before he could finish, she’d tossed the flowers onto the couch and threw herself at him. He stumbled back a step before catching himself and closing his arms around her. He had no clue what he did to get such a reward, but he rested his cheek on her head and enjoyed it anyway. When she hugged him close, something deep within him warmed.

Something he didn’t recognize…or want to recognize.

And when she pulled back, ending the hug way too quickly, he was almost relieved because those unfamiliar emotions freaked him out. He tightened his hold on her hips, torn between wanting to pull her back into his arms or to push her away. That had been the first time she’d touched him intimately—because, hell yes, a hug like that was intimate in his book—of her own accord, and not part of their deception.

“What was that for?”

She smiled up at him. “The flowers.”

Ah. The flowers. Not just the act of flowers, since he’d done that before and she couldn’t have cared less, but the type he’d gotten. Well, hell, if he got a hug every time he did something thoughtful for her, he’d do it all the damn time.

He was all about rewards. Especially when it came to Maggie.

A stray piece of hair fell across her face, so he pushed it away from her cheek gently, staring into her eyes as he did so. It might be cliché, but damned if he couldn’t get lost in those swirling blue-grey depths for hours if she let him. “You’re welcome.”

Moving out of his arms, she picked the flowers up and walked across the room. Halfway there, she stopped and glanced back at the couch with a frown. “Did you…did you straighten up in here? The pillows…and the coffee mugs…and where are my shoes?”

Shit.

She’d noticed.

“Well…I…” He eyed the neatened couch nervously, and the shoes he’d set by the door. He hadn’t meant to do it, it had just sort of happened. “Uh…you did say to make myself at home.”

She laughed, the musical sound washing over him. “I did, didn’t I? It’s cool. I don’t care if you need to make my couch pretty to sit on it, Benji.”

It’s not that he needed to. It’s that for his whole life, he’d had his mother telling him that he had to put on his best face, and never let anyone see him in anything but perfect order. That had stuck with him and made him the man he was today. One that liked order instead of chaos. But he didn’t say any of that.

Why would he?

So he just tugged on his bowtie and checked the time. “Once you’re ready, we need to go.”

“Okay, just give me a second,” she called out from the kitchen. “I’ll be right out.”

He grabbed her jacket off the chair where she’d thrown it, straightened the pillow, and waited by the door. When she came out, the oxygen disappeared from the room all over again. Something of what he felt must have shown on his face, because she paused mid-step. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just… You look absolutely gorgeous.” He swallowed, but it was harder than it should have been. “You’ll be the prettiest woman there, inside and out.”

“Thanks. But I’m seriously unqualified to be going to this event.”

“Bullshit. You don’t ever have to be nervous walking into a room full of stuck-up snobs, because you’re better than all of them combined.” He crossed the room and stopped in front of her, toe-to-toe. “You’re too good for me. So thank you for doing this.”

She licked her red lips, her cheeks almost matching her lipstick. “I’m not too good for you, Benji.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Yes. You are.” He skimmed his knuckles over the soft skin of her arm, watching with fascination as goose bumps rose where he touched. An answering desire crashed through him. “But the fact that you don’t realize that? It’s what makes you so damn special.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him.

The pull between the two of them was overwhelming, and it took every single damn ounce of his self-control not to kiss her. If he broke down and did it, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he’d promised to take things slow, as friends—like the dumb-ass he was.

When he didn’t lean in and close the distance between them, he swore he saw a flash of disappointment run across her expression. Though maybe that was wishful thinking on his part because, damn it, he wished she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“We should go,” she said softly. Turning her back to him, she peeked over her shoulder. He didn’t move, just clutched her jacket tightly. “Benjamin?”

“Right.” He held it up, and she slid her arms inside. When she turned around and faced him, he caught the lapels of her coat and smiled. “Ready?”

She nodded once and let out a breath. “Yep. Let’s do this.”

He offered his arm, and she took it. As they walked down the stairs of her brownstone, his driver opened the door. She smiled at him and slid inside, and Benjamin followed her. The second the door closed behind him, she sagged against the seat. The short ride to The Frick passed quickly, and in a few minutes, they were parked at the curb outside the hotspot.

Maggie sat up straight and pressed a hand to her stomach, turning green. “Oh God. We’re here.”

He reached for the door handle.

“Wait!” She pressed her hand even firmer against her stomach. “I’m allergic to shellfish. And I’m an only child. My roommate’s name is Becca. And my parents—”

“—Are farmers in South Dakota. You have a black cat back home, who you rescued from an alley, and he hides when people come over so I’ll probably never see him. His name is Lucifer. You also love the Yankees and the Giants, hate the Mets and the Jets, and you like long walks in a light, misting, rain.” He cupped her cheek tenderly, smiling down at her reassuringly. “We’ve got this, darling.”

She played with her seat belt, her fingers skittering over it nonstop. “You actually paid attention to all of that?”

“Of course I did. I want to learn everything about you, because I’m greedy when it comes to you. I won’t pretend otherwise.” He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip. “If you’re talking? I’m listening. We’ve got this. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She straightened and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Sir?” The door opened, and his driver glanced down. “Madam?”

“Thank you, Jeff.” He got out of the car and held his hand out. “Darling?”

She slid her hand into his. Her fingers didn’t tremble.

There was a bit of a crowd checking their coats and greeting each other, but he didn’t see his mother, so Maggie would be spared her company, at least for a little while. “She’s not here yet.”