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My heart drums against my ribs.
Damn it.
I don’t, and I don’t need this guy getting cold feet again. I never imagined he’d come around so fast.
“Sorry, I don’t.”
“No problem, just send it over and I’ll get it back to you promptly,” he says, blowing smoke out of his mouth.
“Thrilled to hear it, sir. You’ll love this hotel when it’s complete. I assure you, we’ll give every detail the respect it deserves. I’d stake the entire family name on—”
Winthrope cuts me off with this high-pitched laugh. “I like you. You’ve already sealed the deal and you’re still selling me.”
I snort. Have I, though?
This feels too easy. Or maybe I’m just used to unexpected black magic derailing good things at the last second.
We actually did it.
Ross Winthrope trusts Brandt Ideas with a billion-dollar contract.
Grandma’s dream just got the jolt of lightning it needs to live.
So why the hell does it feel like it’s happening too soon? We’re only a few weeks into this fake arrangement. We’ll have to play the contract out to keep up appearances, of course, but what if she’s less vested once she knows the contract is signed?
Winthrope’s still staring at me. I fidget with my rolled-up sleeves and give back my politest grin, then turn to the horizon with my retinas melting.
“That sunset. Man. Feels like the whole universe is celebrating this partnership,” I say.
Winthrope gives me a firm nod and holds his cigar up in a salute, which I mirror with the highball glass holding my mai tai.
I should be over the frigging moon, but it isn’t the money or the majesty of the hotel on my mind.
It’s her.
Why do I care what Paige Holly thinks?
Why do I feel like I’ve lost my shirt when I just hit the jackpot?
“Look at that skyline!” Paige says, letting out a low whistle.
We’re sitting on a chaise on the upper deck. She’s staring at Chicago just as the summer lights come on, a sight I’ve seen countless times.
I’m far more intrigued with the blond Persephone in front of me, forever enchanted by soft summer evenings and kissed by a lake breeze that makes me jealous. I loop an arm around her waist, not caring how possessive it seems.
I don’t even think about it anymore.
It’s just normal to have her delicate body in my grasp.
She relaxes her back into me. My body stiffens at her closeness, her heat, her promise of everything I desperately need.
“You’re tense. What’s wrong, Ward?” She leans her head back and smiles.
Everything.
Mainly, this urge to peel that corset off and replace it with my mouth, and then keep inching her dress down with my teeth.
“I’m fine,” I strangle out.
Fuck. My voice is an autumn rasp.
She twines her fingers through mine, my hand resting on her waist. “If you aren’t, you can tell me.”
“I know.” The words come out low.
“So? What is it?”
She’s too good at reading me.
Her soft fingertips draw circles over my hand and then dance up my arm.
I tighten my grip around her, pulling her closer, a move that only makes things worse. Her ass cheeks press against the tip of the hard line in my slacks.
The smart thing to do—the easy thing—would be to jump up and run, but I’m so drunk on this woman I can’t move.
“It’s good news, actually,” I say. “Winthrope’s sold. We’ll have the contract signed and delivered this weekend.”
She lets go of my hand and turns sideways on the chaise so we’re face-to-face. Her eyes are wide, a forest fire with the last of the dying sun. She grins so deep small dimples show, adorable dents I never noticed before.
“Holy—that’s freaking awesome! Why aren’t you popping champagne?” She elbows me playfully.
“I am. I was just thinking.”
“Ward, you’re brooding. What now?”
Just like that, I realize how screwed I am.
I can’t hide shit from this girl.
“We never got a chance to celebrate,” I say coldly.
“We will, silly. The whole office is going to freak when they find out.” Her smile reaches down inside me and lights my darkest lamp.
“No, I mean, we never got a chance to celebrate our engagement.” I swallow, catching her eyes as they dip in confusion. “Paige, we never got to celebrate like this.”
I pull her into my lap, wishing my body was less aroused by her nearness.
I want this to be sweet. Special. Spontaneous.
Goddamn. What have I turned into?
I’m still wondering as I cup her chin with my hand, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m not backing down. My finger caresses her cheek, and I inch her lips toward mine.
Nice and slow. A hungry, cherished offering.
She has plenty of time to pull away, but we’re alone up here with the entire city watching, the moon rising like this terrible signal God put there to scream, shut up and kiss her, you dolt.
And Paige doesn’t hesitate.
She sighs and whispers my name just before our lips collide in sticky rapture.
