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Despite my brain repeating the mantra, the image of that skimpy lingerie clinging to her curves flashed in my vision. So did the pert peak of hard nipples. And I in no way meant to catalog the way the silk clung to her perfect ass, but here I was, fighting a hard on at a conference for the nation’s most brilliant young minds. What in the hell happened to that blessed hoody? Was she trying to drive me into madness?
But herein lay the problem: I wanted her. Had always wanted her. Had never had the guts to admit to her brothers how deeply I needed this woman in my life. But Elora had. Not to her brothers, of course. They’d never let her live it down. But to me. I’d royally fucked up in how I responded…twice. But at least at some point, the bombshell holding an entire posse of businesswomen rapt with her words had cared for me. Shared in my pathetic attraction to the one person that wasn’t an option.
Over the last year, I’d convinced myself she’d somehow turned it off. But based on El’s reaction this morning…Brexley Rhodes might very well be onto something.
Maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t completely fucked myself out of a chance with her… if I was willing to risk the only friendships I had back home.
A gentle throat clearing pulled my attention to the chair beside me. I’d settled at a table in the back of the room, the white cloth draping it now covered in half-heartedly discarded cups of coffee, cell phones, even a few bags belonging to women who evidently deemed me trustworthy enough to keep watch of their belongings.
The blue slipcovers over the chairs coordinated with the tacky hotel carpet, and now perched on the one beside me, was none other than Johanna King, hostess of the event.
“Afternoon, Professor Allen,” she said with a smile, too practiced to be real. Johanna was the kind of polished that belonged in magazines. Her sleek golden hair came down just past her collar bones, curled enough to look impeccably effortless without becoming disheveled. She had too much neck, not enough warmth in those calculating hazel-green eyes and moved a lot like she rehearsed each intentional shift of her limbs or weight. A dancer on a stage rather than a woman sitting at a table. It made my stomach uneasy. Instincts screaming that all was not as it seemed, despite her pleasant demeanor and hospitality.
“Afternoon, Miss King,” I said, giving her a cordial nod. My gut instincts might be rearing, but that didn’t negate her success in her field, or the impact she would have here on this congregation of ambitious minds. Professional formality was more than owed. “What can I do for you today?”
“Just wanted to drop by and make sure you’re enjoying your time at the event or remedy it if you’re not.”
My mind immediately flipped to the groggy memory of Elora cradled against my body, and how long-awaited the sensation had been. Smiling, I said, “Time of my life. Thanks for orchestrating such a unique opportunity.” Not that she could take credit for the booking glitch, though I certainly wasn’t complaining.
She laughed, and when she leaned forward in apparent recovery, her delicate hand came down on my forearm, where I’d rolled my button up sleeves to the elbow. My eyes dropped to where she gave me a squeeze, her skin on mine. That was… not my favorite. If it hadn’t been for the Rhodes being just as touchy-feely as my parents, I likely would never allow a stranger within a five-foot radius. But they’d beaten physical affection into me over the years, and it was that and that alone that kept me from disentangling from her too-friendly clutches.
“My pleasure. This batch is especially promising, don’t you think?”
“A little bias, I’m afraid,” I said, leaning back in relief when she removed her hand from my arm, tucking a long strand of honey hair behind an ear baring precisely one gold hoop.
“Oh, don’t be so modest. You’ve earned your place on that stage.”
Smiling, my eyes drifted back to Pix. It certainly wasn’t my cause on my mind as I crossed my arms to move them out of range. She’d been brilliant today. Engaging the audience, not afraid to answer questions on the spot or crack a witty joke. It had been magnetizing to watch. Even Mara was on fire during her portion of the talk. “My competitors are all fantastic. You don’t happen to have secondary grants hidden up your sleeve?”
She laughed lightly, straightening the arm of her blazer. But she ended the laugh by laying her hand on my shoulder, shaking her head. “So humble, Mr. Allen. And unfortunately, not this time around. Although, in the future, we’ll have to account for this caliber of talent.”
“That might be in your best interest,” I agreed. What organizer wouldn’t want their name on these causes? Elora’s was fantastic, but I could begrudgingly admit the others were also just as worthy.
“Although, between you and me, I think you’ll be quite pleased with the score tallies this afternoon.” Her voice climbed up, a brow subtly arching as though she expected a much larger reaction to that line of bait than I gave her. Unbothered, she continued, “You and your fellow Alaskan are solidly in the lead. What are the odds of two of you coming from the same tiny town, huh?”
“Statistically? Nonexistent,” I breathed, gut crashing as Pierce made his way over toward Pix.
“Must be one hell of an island.”
“The best,” I grunted noncommittally, eyes flicking between that eager, press-worthy smile and Elora, as she embraced Thor the Abercrombie model, before trading for his sister, to my immense relief. “Though it certainly poses its own unique challenges.”
“Challenges that have inspired you both to engineer admirable remedies.”
“A good silver lining.”
“Are you an opportunist, Mr. Allen?” Something in the shift of her tone brought my focus back to the woman sitting well within my personal bubble. She slowly eased forward with conspiracy written across those pretty, strategic features.
“A realist, I’m afraid,” I said matter-of-factly. Her chime of a laugh did nothing to disarm my unease around her.
“You impressed some powerful people in your presentation today. People that could make or break this grab for the grant. I don’t think you need to worry about moving on to the next round of finalists.”
Oddly enough, I was uncharacteristically at ease after my pitch. I was prepared, confident, well-organized, and it showed. Whether I made it to the next round of qualifications was out of my control, and for once in my life, I wasn’t obsessing over the outcome. No, I was obsessing over something worse. Something I shouldn’t want and couldn’t have and yet was rapidly deciding to pursue, anyway. Because nothing and no one had ever fit in my life quite like El in my arms this morning. And nobody had ever gotten my blood pumping like her adorable rambling.
My mind left the conference the moment she landed in my hotel room.
“Thanks for that—I did my best,” I said, aware the delay in my response was likely more than noticeable.
“Well, it showed. You know, a few of the panelists are going out for drinks tonight. If you want to come along, I’d be happy to introduce you.”
