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“Oh, please, you’re setting the bar ridiculously high,” she’d replied, the ice immediately broken.
Within minutes she sensed he was all people had described—strong but not overbearing, charismatic, but also thoughtful and considerate. It was hard not to fall under his spell.
What especially impressed Emma was Tom’s curiosity. Unlike so many powerful men she’d encountered over the years, who only loved to talk about themselves, he asked smart questions and wanted to know abouther, how she’d ended up in this field, how she balanced gut instinct with the results of research.
And there was something else, something that nearly knocked her backward. Toward the end of the thirty or so minutes they spent together, she realized that she wasattractedto him. It wasn’t just his charm and sense of humor, but she was drawn to him physically—his prematurely silvery gray hair with matching scruff, blue-gray eyes, the two front teeth that overlapped ever so slightly.Whoa, hold on, she had told herself.This is crazy. Tom was single, she’d heard, a forty-three-year-old widower whose wife had passed a few years earlier, but Emma wasn’t ready for anything sexual, romantic, or even lightly flirtatious. Not then or anytime soon.
As they’d wrapped up the meeting, Tom had offered her a retainer and contract, which would entail her working not only with Scott for the next year but also several otheraccount executives. She left his office elated about the arrangement and determined to ignore the attraction she’d felt toward the man sitting next to her.
But it wasn’t long before all that changed.
“Ah, what a sight for sore eyes,” Tom says, entering the kitchen from the passageway to the garage. Emma strides toward him, and as they kiss each other hungrily, not only does her body relax, but the lingering traces of her headache recede almost instantaneously.
Once they’ve peeled themselves away, Tom’s gaze finds its way to the table in the corner, where Emma’s lit candles and set out a green salad, a baguette, and the pâté and cheeses from her aborted get-together with Addison.
“That looks fabulous,” he says. “Thanks so much for waiting, sweetheart.”
“My pleasure.”
And it is. His thoughtfulness toward her seems to know no bounds, and she’s always eager for a chance to repay it.
“Is red wine okay with you?” she asks. “I picked out a nice bottle from the cellar to welcome you back.”
“Perfect. Just let me wash my hands first. And by the way, if you’re trying to seduce me with expensive wine and pâté, it’s totally unnecessary.”
“Ah, good to know for future reference.”
She smiles playfully or at least tries to—because her unease about Webster is advancing again.
Once they’re settled at the table, Tom tells her he’s pretty sure that Halliday won the business he was pitching in Chicago, though it might involve making one more trip to the Midwest to finalize details.
“So the presentation you showed me was a home run?” she asks.
He grits his teeth, feigning nervous tension. “Not exactly. As soon as I was in the room with their team and saw them interacting, I had a sense we’d taken their requests way too literally. I ended up shifting gears midstream and diverging from the PowerPoint. It was risky but in hindsight I know it was the right move.”
“Wow, I would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall. Was Justine able to roll with the punches?” Tom’s former head of client services was promoted a while back to the number-two position and has had some trouble nailing it.
He laughs. “I tried to shoot her a warning look that I was about to go rogue, but she had this deer-in-the-headlights expression, and it took her a while to get up to speed.”
“Hmm. I didn’t interact with Justine all that much during my consulting days, but she always seemed so on the ball,” Emma says. “And yet every time you’ve mentioned her lately, it’s been in the context of her being out of sync or distracted. What do you think is going on?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s something I’m going to have to deal with. As you know, she oversaw events in her previous position and insisted on holding on to that role, which means she’s probably got too much on her plate. Enough about me, though. How was your day, Em? Did you manage to squeeze in a walk on the beach?”
“Actually, since I had the house to myself, I decided to just hang here.”
“I’m sure that was nice for you.” He shakes his head. “I know Brittany’s presence has put a damper on our summer, but I’m going to do my best to make it up to you when we go to Napa in August.”
“Oh, Tom, you don’t have to make up anything to me. I just wish I could find a way to connect with Brittany better.”
“Don’t blame yourself. She was never an easy kid, but she’s been through a lot, and I imagine she’s still really suffering.”
“I know. Losing her mom. Leaving the home she grew up in. It must be so hard.”
Tom tears off a piece of baguette, smears it with pâté, and hands it to Emma before preparing another for himself. “So... tell me why your drinks date fell apart with—what’s her name?”
“Addison Stark. She says she’s been at the same events as you a couple of times.”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell, but perhaps I’ll recognize her if we ever officially meet. So why did she bail on you?”
