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Axel
Well, that shoots my plan in the foot.
Elora
No one is arriving anywhere, and certainly not in your birthday suits. Gotta roll. Jeanne, let’s chat later?
Jeanne
Tomorrow? I’m wiped. Gotta clean up.
Elora
I fly out for Seattle at noon. After?
Jeanne
Perfect.
Jameson
Wait. Wtf did Finn say ‘see you soon’? You better not be in NYC without telling the rest of us.
For the first time in years, anxiety had tightened my belly as I prepared for my last pitch…right until the yahoo crew sent me snickering as I slid my phone into the tight, silky pocket of my favorite cobalt blazer. Partially, the nerves reared their heads because I’d be speaking in front of the attendees and panelists again today, but mostly because Broderick hadn’t been back since the night of the concert. Some kind of body snatcher had swapped him for his body double all over again, and I’d been reeling since.
I thought the night had been a freaking dream right until he went all Star Trek Vulcan on me and then vanished into the ether. Even Evel Knievel would have whiplash hanging around this man.
I’d known he was around, because Johanna told me how ‘very much’ she enjoyed chatting with my ‘foxy professor friend’, and I decided maybe she wasn’t quite as fabulous as I’d originally thought. As a matter of fact, I actually didn’t care much for her at all.
And then he was there, opening the day bright and early, and owning every inch of that stage like the professor he was. He was so introverted, so introspective—always stuck in his head—that sometimes it was easy to forget that he literally spoke to a few hundred students for a living. I watched with rapt attention right until that bright smile cracked his face at the sound of boisterous applause from hundreds of members of the audience who’d engaged with him before their coffee even went cold on the last morning of the event. Hell, I’d been impressed at how many attendees were in their seats, sans toothpicks to hold their eyelids apart.
As for Broderick…he was magnificent. And also, a total fucking sneak, because I rushed out of the room the moment he wrapped up, weaving through the now standing bodies as fast as I could manage, and still didn’t catch him before he vanished. I checked the room during intermissions, to no avail. The shithead was avoiding me.
Pierce closed out the morning segment of the day, leaving me with the task of opening after lunch.
When I arrived down in the conference room, I canted my head, studying the stage, which was now missing a podium. In its place was a solitary armchair. Curiosity quirked my brow just before the unmistakable clearing of his throat had me turning to find Broderick smiling softly, holding up an impressive cup of coffee in offering.
“That’s a rather manly serving there,” I said, narrowing my eyes before accepting and asking, “What’s this for?”
“You always like to present like you’re sitting across a table from your audience,” he said, nodding to the chair on the stage. My mouth popped open. When I turned back to him, he was backing away into the hallway like that was all the explanation I’d get.
“You watch me speak?” I asked, a not-so-subtle heat creeping up my neck at the idea, spreading to my chest when he grinned conspiratorially.
“Didn’t think your hometown forgot about our golden girl, did you? Hell, I play your lives for my students.”
I tracked his movement, taking slow steps toward him as he backed up. Simultaneous amusement and overwhelm tugged my heart along on the invisible leash in his hand. At a loss for words, I wrestled out, “Broderick, thank?—”
“No biggie, Pix,” he shrugged. “You deserve this. Break a leg out there,” he said, turning to vanish into the steadily flowing sea of post-lunch attendees finding their way inside, their gradually growing chatter bouncing off the walls.
What the hell was he doing, playing ghost for two days straight just to drop in for the kindest gesture I’d ever seen, only to vanish again without an explanation? Confusion burrowed into my belly. He was the most infuriating man I ever had the displeasure of infatuating over. I was just about to chase after him and demand some straight fucking answers when a beaming Mara appeared in my sight, clapping me enthusiastically on both shoulders.
“Good morning! Looking beautiful,” her eyes widened at the enormous coffee clutched between my fingers. “Looking caffeinated. Ready to go kick some ass?”
Blinking, I said, “Yeah, I guess.”
“That’s the spirit!” she chirped sardonically, turning me around and smacking my back to encourage our movement toward the curtained off prep area. Still a little dazed—and a lot confused—I followed my friend to the side of the stage, where the happy but flushed faces of a bustling IT team greeted us and began wiring me to the mic.
Johanna came in, beaming that stage worthy smile, and I couldn’t help but return the hug she offered before pulling back and dusting invisible lint off my shoulders.
