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Emma whistled. “Impressive. Owen has a good eye. I assume he helped with the collection here.”
“Yes, he did, although the gallery manager also had a hand in it.”
They moved on along the wall, stopping in front of each painting to share their thoughts. Patrick found himself struggling to focus on the art, though. Instead, his eyes drifted over and over to Emma. She must have gotten changed at the office, because she now wore a tight white sweater and a pair of dark brown slacks that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was back in a smooth, no-nonsense bun, and Patrick fought the urge to release the clip that held it back and let those dark waves fall around her shoulders — the way he liked it.
And then it happened.
They were standing in front of a classic still life of nondescript round objects (another painting that Patrick didn’t particularly enjoy personally, but which he knew was a good investment). Emma turned from the painting, presumably to say something, and came face-to-face with him. Suddenly, they were just inches apart.
Patrick looked down at Emma. Her brown eyes were bracketed by those long dark lashes as she looked up at him. Almost without meaning to, he lifted his hand. He wanted to run his thumb along the side of her cheek and feel if her skin was really as soft as it looked. He wanted to lean forward and capture those full pink lips with his.
They were finally alone. And Emma’s parted lips and flushed cheeks showed Patrick that she wanted the same thing. The tension between them was palpable. It had grown ever since that first moment he had seen Emma in the orientation, increasing in every conversation and becoming almost unbearable when they’d danced together.
Slowly, Patrick leaned down as Emma tilted her head up, and then?—
“The food’s probably getting cold.” As she spoke, Emma looked away.
Patrick quickly straightened up, surprised and a little confused. Emma had seemed to feel the tension between them as much as he did, but now she was pulling away. What had happened?
Still, the last thing Patrick wanted was to pressure her or make her uncomfortable, so he followed her quick topic change.
“Yes, you’re right. We should go eat.”
Emma turned away quickly and hurried across the room to the table. Patrick followed more slowly, still reeling from what had happened. Perhaps he had imagined the romance of the moment and that she felt the same way.
No. He knew what he’d seen. Emma cared about him, too. He was sure of it. Maybe she just hadn’t felt ready to take the next step.
“This all looks wonderful,” she said as she uncovered a few of the places. “And smells delicious.”
“It really does.”
“And, Patrick, um…” She flushed and looked away. “I’m really enjoying this evening with you.”
Warmth unspooled in Patrick’s chest. Even if she hadn’t wanted to kiss him, she was enjoying the evening and he hadn’t made her uncomfortable. Thank goodness.
“Me, too. And if I did something?—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just…”
“There’s no need to explain.”
“Okay. Um, shall we eat?”
“I am quite hungry.”
So, they began to eat. For a few moments everything was silent, although it was a companionable silence despite the awkwardness of the almost-kiss. Once they’d both eaten a little, Emma looked up at Patrick.
“I meant to tell you, I’ve really enjoyed seeing all the art here today. You asked for my opinion on the gallery. It’s a very cohesive and intriguing collection. I have to say, though, that I’d be interested in seeing what you would choose if you were picking art based on your own taste. I don’t mean to be forward, but you mentioned a personal collection?”
Patrick smiled. “I did. Would you be interested in seeing it one day?” The offer slipped out easily, even though Patrick rarely, if ever, invited anyone to his home. Emma was just so… different from everyone else he knew. Not only was she insightful, intelligent, and beautiful, but when he was with her, he felt different, too. Plus, she seemed genuinely interested in his art collection. Perhaps he’d found another person who would appreciate Aurora as much as he did.
The grin on Emma’s face at the offer confirmed that he’d made the right choice. She nodded.
“I would love that.”
“How about next Friday?” It was a few days away, long enough for Patrick to make sure his collection was in order before Emma saw it.
A shadow flickered across Emma’s face, but then she nodded and the smile returned. Patrick might have imagined the shadow completely. For all he felt a strong connection with Emma, he didn’t know her all that well and was no expert in her expressions.
