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“Preston—”
“I love how you say my name.” I put my hand over his where it still rested on my chest, holding him there even when he tried to pull back. “Don’t you want to hear me say yours?”
The only tell that he was affected was the tic in his jaw before he said, “You need to back up.”
“Is that what you really want, or is that what you think you have to say?”
“I’m not doing this.” He pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair. As he headed for the door, I thought I heard him mumble, “This was a mistake.”
“I thought you wanted to talk,” I said when he unlocked the door.
“I think being anywhere alone with you isn’t a good idea. Whatever it is you’re thinking, whatever scenario you’ve dreamed up, it’s not happening,” he said. “No matter what arrangement you and my daughter have, it’s clear that the rest of the world has bought into your lies.Ibought into them. The truth changes nothing.”
“Doesn’t it?” I trailed my eyes over his pants, which had looked noticeably tighter since we walked in the room. “Then why did you bother to ask?”
He shook his head as he opened the door. “Take care, Preston.”
As he left the room, I sighed and ran a hand over my hair.
Fuck.That went well.
But at least I’d have another chance later. It seemed he’d forgotten I’d be stopping by his office tonight…
FIVE
archer
“I HAD A dreadful feeling I’d find you still here behind a mountain of paperwork.”
I looked up from where I sat at my desk late Monday to see Benoit propped against my office door, a bottle of vermouth in one hand and a small bottle of bitters in the other. His golden-brown hair was only slightly windblown, but the flush in his cheeks and nose and the cashmere scarf thrown artfully around his neck spoke of the cold outside.
I smirked up at my longtime friend as he sauntered in, heading straight for the bar cart.
“Are you here to relieve me, then? Or just taking advantage of my liquor?” I said.
He carefully lifted the top of the crystal whiskey decanter and cocked a brow. “Both,mon ami. You’re welcome.”
With a shake of my head, I continued working the monthly figures for my agency, though it was one of the more tedious aspects of owning a business. “Give me five.”
“I’ll give you two.”
Those two minutes passed quicker than expected, and I’d barely finished giving the spreadsheet a final once-over when Benoit set a full tumbler in front of me.
“All right,” I said, logging off the computer and then reaching for the glass. “I yield.”
The Manhattan he’d made was strong and slightly bitter, just the way I liked it—but then, he’d had a couple of decades to perfect it, ever since we were roommates during our Astor days.
As the alcohol made its way through my veins, I sighed and leaned back in my leather chair, kicking my feet up on the desk. “Have I mentioned I’m glad you’re back? London doesn’t deserve you.” I held up my glass. “Or these.”
A hint of a smile lifted Benoit’s lips. “If I’d known you missed me that much, I would’ve come back sooner.”
“Liar.”
“Well, I would’ve thought about it.” He winked at me over his glass, and I couldn’t help but grin at my old friend.
Well,oldwasn’t really the word to describe either of us. I’d only recently turned forty-two, and the number still felt foreign to me. In some ways I understood it. I had a daughter in college; I owned my own company. I was accomplished. Settled, in most ways. But I couldn’t reconcile it with the fact that I stillfeltlike I was in my early thirties. Especially when I was around a certain college kid.
Hell, Benoit, with his unlined skin and youthful energy, looked closer to Preston’s age. It was only his wealth of jet-setting experience that gave him away.
