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Now all I had to do was keep that promise.
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“Miss Bartlett!”
I was brought up short by Hunter’s deep, honeyed voice. For a second my mind flashed to an alternate reality where we’d spent the entire evening in bed; there was something incredibly seductive about the idea of him staying entirely formal even as our nak**ed bodies intertwined, whispering ‘Miss Bartlett’ even as his fingers trailed down my back, slid between my—
“Miss Bartlett.”
And suddenly that voice was a lot closer. I almost choked, and fighting down a blush that could have started a forest fire, turned to face him: “Yes, Mr. Knox?”
Oh good, that sounded almost normal. Barely like I wanted to rip his shirt off at all.
He frowned slightly, and pulled me to the side, far enough away from the rest that they couldn’t overhear us while we talked quietly. In a low voice, he said, “I’m really sorry that I—well, if I’d known that you were here for this bid—”
“No, don’t apologize, I mean, I should’ve asked your name—” I smoothed my skirt awkwardly. “I mean, that’s not normally my style, to just—well.”
“No, it’s certainly not mine, either—that is, well, it has been in the past, but I have always believed in treating women with respect, and you certainly deserve respect and I wouldn’t want you to believe for a second that I chose your pitch for anything other than its merit, and—”
He was starting to sound more flustered than a preacher in a whorehouse, and I took pity on him.
“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Knox. It was a clearly a one-time thing for both of us. I don’t think it will be an issue. We can be professional and move on, can’t we?”
“Of course,” he said after a pause. “That’s exactly the right course of action.” Yet somehow he didn’t sound as relieved as I thought he would.
I looked up at him sharply, about to ask if professionalism was really what he wanted, but he was already looking over my shoulder, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Hmmm…what’s the plural noun for a group of vultures?”
I turned, following his gaze to the cluster of Douchebros by the elevator. Chuck was right in among them, looking exceedingly chummy as they pounded him on the back and laughed at something he had said.
“Now there’s some love at first sight,” I said dryly.
A laugh startled itself out of Hunter’s throat, but his eyes stayed worried.
“Not sure about the kids?” I joked. “It’s true, if they get Harry’s brains they’ll all be doomed.”
Hunter chuckled again, but this time it seemed more out of politeness. “Chuck…has a certain tendency to intrigue. I sometimes think he would have been happier working in the CIA than at a liquor company.”
“So send the director his resume,” I said with a grin.
Why did I want so badly to make this man laugh? Was it just that I was remembering his easy smile the night before, the way it had lit up his face and made him look half a decade younger? Or was it something else—those faint lines at the corners of his eyes that I hadn’t seen before now, worn by worry and care, making me want to soothe them away?
“The truth is…Knox shares have been falling, and this is my last chance to turn the company around,” he said, and the way he said those words, his eyes distant, I wasn’t sure if he knew he had spoken them or if he’d just thought them so fervently that his lips had to move. “So if I fail now, the vultures like Chuck move in. I can’t fail.”
My heart lodged in my throat, fluttering, and I gripped his hand impulsively.
“I won’t fail you.”
He looked at me then, in a way that none of my colleagues or even my family had ever looked at me before. He looked at me like he really saw me.
And then he smiled, a slow grin that called up moonlight and moonshine and soft, rumpled sheets. “I’ll hold you to that.”
FOUR
“Oh honey, are you sure you want more of those potatoes? Your figure’s so…robust…already, darling, and you know what they say about carbs.”
Ah, home sweet home.
I ignored my mother as she fretted with the strand of pearls around her neck, opting instead to ladle even more mashed potatoes onto my plate. Maybe it was a little childish, but something about everything my mother said made me want to do the exact opposite.
Besides, if I chewed loud enough, I could almost drown out her constant stream of passive-aggression.
“Actually, I was just reading an interesting article on the important role of carbohydrates,” my older sister Paige put in. “They’re really important! I’ll get you a copy, Mom, I’m sure you’ll have lots of really insightful things to say about it.”
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