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I give myself one last check in the mirror. I don’t tell Miles I couldn’t give a shit about winning or losing today. Daisy texted me she’s bringing her cousin to the meeting this afternoon, and that old itch is driving me mad.
I pop an ibuprofen and follow him out of the ancient, red-brick edifice to where a black Lincoln waits to return us to the office.
The conference room at Antiques Today has a brilliant view of downtown Columbia. A massive mahogany table is situated in the center, surrounded by butter-soft black leather chairs, and a projector hangs from the ceiling, pointed to a fifty-inch flatscreen television.
In the center is sparkling and still water, coffee, and tea, and a pair of servers have arranged platters of finger sandwiches and fruit on the credenza.
“Good afternoon, Miles. Spencer.” Daisy breezes into the room in jeans and a flowing white top, pausing to kiss my cheek. “Can you believe I’ve never been in this room?”
I glance around the austere space. “We rarely use it.”
“Why have it?” She picks up a tiny sandwich and takes a bite. “Mmm… Chicken salad.”
“For moments such as this.” Miles holds out a hand. “Would you like a snack, Miss…”
“Winthrop. Joselyn. I’m good, thank you.”
My eyes snap up, and she’s here.
She’s dressed in a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to her tall, statuesque frame. It’s expensive, Armani, I’d guess, with a white silk blouse under the jacket. The top button in the center of her chest gives me a peek at her soft cleavage, and her glossy red hair is brushed over one shoulder in smooth waves.
She looks amazing.
“Sorry, Miles,” Daisy covers her mouth as she swallows her bite. “I forgot you haven’t met my cousin. Sly, this is Miles Klaut, founder of Antiques Today. He’s a legend in the business and not at all as scary as he seems at first.”
“Do I seem scary?” Miles puts a hand on his chest and winks up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Winthrop.”
I step around the table, and her eyes flare when she sees me in a most satisfying way. “It’s nice to see you again, Joselyn.”
“Spencer.” Her voice is quiet, slightly husky, pure sex. “How are you?”
“Much better now.” I give her a rare smile, and she blinks away quickly, cheeks flushing.
Don’t be afraid, Sin.
“Spencer said you’re an artist when it comes to flowers.” Miles motions to the chairs, and she and Daisy sit.
“An artist?” She arches an eyebrow at me, and I lightly shrug.
“I described what I saw. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll have a water, thanks.” She takes a chair, and I hand her a bottle of Pellegrino before rounding the table to sit across from her.
From this angle, I can study her beautiful face as we chat. Miles leads the discussion, explaining his ideas, and Daisy is quick to catch up with him. She lists potential venues and themes and the pros and cons of each.
Leaning back in my chair, I let the two of them run with it, preferring instead to memorize the flicker of dark lashes over ocean eyes. The afternoon sun highlights the red streaks in her hair like fire, and I notice a faint sprinkling of freckles across the top of her cheeks. Her skin is like ivory. She’s a rare beauty.
“Sly has connections with one of the best caterers in the area, and of course, she’ll handle all the floral arrangements.”
“Did you have anything in particular in mind?” Her voice is smooth like whiskey, with a hint of smokiness. “We’re lucky that we can get almost anything here.”
“I think the New Englanders would be most impressed by tropicals.” I lean forward, joining the conversation.
Daisy lights up in her unique way, nodding quickly. “Did you bring your portfolio, Sly? Show Miles the one you did with the tiger lilies.”
“I didn’t…” Joselyn looks worried, glancing from her cousin to Miles to me. “It’s in Fireside. I-I wasn’t planning to do this anymore.”
“No need to apologize, Miss Winthrop.” Miles smiles at her, giving me a knowing glance. “Anyone who can make an impression on Mr. Freeze here must be worth her salt.”
