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Two
Jenna followed the white-haired receptionist along a suspended walkway over a huge open-plan workspace. A wall of glass three stories high highlighted the Seattle cityscape. From there, they turned into a starkly minimalist corridor, paneled with gleaming wood, lit by slanted skylight windows. She’d been wanting to check out the famous new Maddox Hill building in downtown Seattle, made completely out of eco-friendly sustainable wooden building materials, for some time now. Unsurprisingly, it was gorgeous, inside and out. The wood gave it an earthy and welcoming warmth that steel and concrete could never match. A glimpse inside an open office door showed floor-to-ceiling windows and a stunning view of the rapidly transforming city skyline. Just what she’d expect of a world-famous architecture firm.
It was all very elegant, but she wished Ava had kept their original date hours ago at the coffee shop near the Curtis Pavilion, and not strong-armed Jenna into coming up here. She’d hoped for a chance to rehearse the main points of her intro presentation with her friend before she had to give the speech. Ava had a keen ear for anything flat, boring or repetitive.
But whatever. She’d gotten through it okay, even without the dry run, and it was out of her hands now. Fingers and toes crossed. The Wexler Prize was a juicy one. Half a million dollars would kick her research forward and turbocharge all her hopes and plans.
Maybe Ava had just wanted to show off the new Maddox Hill headquarters building, and if so, she was suitably impressed. Her uncle Malcolm Maddox was the firm’s cofounder, and the building itself had been recently designed by Ava’s sexy brother, Drew, the infamous bad boy of modern architecture.
The receptionist stopped in front of a mahogany door, and knocked.
“Come in!” Ava’s voice called.
This room, like the corner office Jenna had glimpsed, was large and featured big slanted windows, and a breath-taking view. The sun glowed low on the horizon, painting the clouds pink. Ava gave her a welcoming smile, and then the man at the table stood up and turned around. Jenna stopped short—and stopped breathing.
Drew Maddox himself, in the flesh. Ava’s big brother and architect of the superrich: the tech tycoons, oil sheikhs and Hollywood royalty. Currently the focus of a fresh sex scandal.
And also, incidentally, of her most feverish and long-standing girlish crush. Because of course, she had such impeccable taste in men. Ha ha.
She hadn’t seen Drew Maddox since the sangria episode in college. She’d fled the scene in a state of utter mortification, and hadn’t come back with a bucket and mop to clean up the mess until he was safely gone. He’d roared off on his motorcycle into the sunset and straight into her wildest sexual fantasies.
Where he proceeded to take up permanent residence. He was her go-to. Always.
He was just as gorgeous now as he ever had been. No, even more so. Eleven years had rendered him denser. More solid and seasoned. Even bigger than she remembered. He was so tall. Broad shouldered, with that tapered waist. Hard muscular thighs. On Drew Maddox, a pair of dress pants, a crisp white shirt and a silk tie looked almost dangerous.
His face was so beautiful. Golden olive skin. Dark hair. Deep-set, tilted green eyes. Lashes longer and darker than any man needed them to be. Sharp cheekbones, a strong, chiseled jaw and full, sensual lips. The dramatic slash of his dark eyebrows was mesmerizing. He was so fine, no wonder women flung themselves at him, at least according to this morning’s tabloids. She didn’t blame them.
Ava looked discreetly amused when Jenna finally dragged her gaze away.
Damn. Caught gawking. And of course, now her face was red. It was the cross she had to bear, with her pale, redheaded complexion. Freckles and blushing.
“You remember my brother, Drew?” Ava said.
“Of course.” Jenna tried to smile. “Our dorm room, back in college. I believe I dumped a pitcher of sangria all over you.”
“I remember that.” His voice was so deep and resonant. “It was sticky.”
“I was telling Drew about your presentation,” Ava said. “I sent him the video Ernest made for me.”
Yikes. Fresh insecurity rocked her. Drew, watching her speak? She could have had lipstick on her teeth for all she knew.
“Come in, come in,” Ava urged. “Shall I ask Mrs. Crane to bring you coffee, tea, a soft drink? A fresh-pressed juice? We have a juice bar.”
“No, thanks. I don’t need anything.”
“Sit down, Jenna. There’s something we needed to ask you.”
“Go ahead.” Jenna settled herself in a chair, tingling with nerves. Drew stood with his back to them, gazing out the window at the fading sunset colors glowing on the horizon.
Jenna wrenched her gaze away from his perfect, fabulously muscular butt with great force of will. “What is it you want to know?”
“Um... This is kind of awkward.” Ava’s eyes flicked over to Drew, then back to her. “But we appear to be in some PR trouble. I don’t suppose you saw the tabloids today.”
“I noticed a couple of silly headlines online this morning,” she admitted. “But I didn’t read the articles. Nobody pays attention to those rags anyhow.”
Total lie. She’d read through all four articles. Every word. In fact, she’d stared avidly at the pictures until her coffee was cold wondering what a guy like Drew Maddox saw in those pumped-full-of-silicone party girls. Men. She would never understand.
“Triple Towers Starchitect Caught with His Hand in the Cookie Jar!” read one headline. A photo of Drew’s Hollywood starlet girlfriend’s scowling face was captioned: “Bonita Furious! Bad Boy Drew Maddox strays...again!”
