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She nods and squeezes back, and it’s the best feeling in the world.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emery
THEDINNERPROGRESSEDbetter than I had anticipated, despite the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Diamandis looked as far from people who might buy my game as humanly possible. Seriously, I’m pretty sure the sapphire and diamond ring on her finger was worth more than my apartment. But they were lovely, curious about me, and I found myself enjoying talking about my work for the first time in a while.
They had no idea who I was and what I’d done before, so I could leave the baggage behind. The excitement I’d had for game making in the early days came roaring back and I felt like my old self again.
And it’s all thanks to Rowan.
Every so often through the dinner, my eyes would flick to his and something would pass between us. A ripple of connection, or partnership, electric with attraction. The second we’d walked in here, I felt like a total fish out of water, and he’d sensed that. There was something soothing about Rowan’s presence.
Which is ahugesurprise. But he’s so good with people. He had the clients laughing and eating out of the palm of his hand. Wine and champagne flowed. Too much, perhaps. Because I’m feeling a little fuzzy as we walk back into the night air. And now it’s hard to look at him without remembering last night.
Oh, God, last night.
I’m no virgin, believe me. I’ve had my share of boyfriends and the occasional ill-advised, drunken tumble. But last night was...something else.
Maybe because it’s been a while. The first piece of chocolate after staying off sugar for six months isboundto taste good, right? Yet, no matter how I try to rationalise the feelings away, I know it wasn’t anything to do with having been in a drought.
It was him.
It was us.
And that makes me nervous as hell. Because now we’re getting into a taxi and heading home, and I’ve invited him to come to my place...the scene of the crime. How am I going to watch him walk through my door and not think about him standing there last night, backlit with eyes like fire? How am I ever going to look at my couch again when I know what it feels like to have his body pressing me into the soft cushions?
The drive is quick. I stare out the window, my head a jumble of thoughts, and suddenly I do wish I’d dressed up a little more—not for the fancy restaurant or the clients, but for him. And that’snothow I usually think.
It’s the wine. And latent onset horniness.
When the taxi pulls up in front of 21 Love Street, Rowan pays the driver. Then he steps out and holds his hand toward mine like a total gentleman. I have to remind myself that this is nothing more than a night out between colleagues. Only he’s not looking at me like I’m a colleague and I’m pretty damn sure that’s not how I’m looking at him, either.
You signed the contract. This is business. Put the hormones away.
“Are you going to go easy on me tonight?” he asks with a charming grin as the glass doors to 21 Love Street swish open in front of us. Inside, the foyer is dotted with people coming and going. “Or are you more the take-no-prisoners type?”
“What?” I squeak, my eyes snapping up to his.
“With the game,” he clarifies, though the self-satisfied smirk tells me he knewexactlyhow I would take those words.
“Maybe this is a bad idea.” Fortunately, as soon as we reach the elevator bay, one arrives.Unfortunately, it’s empty. And right now, I’m starting to think that Rowan and I shouldn’t be left alone.
My self-control is at an all-time low.
“Oh, come on.” He nudges me with his elbow. “It’s just a game.”
I jab the button for our level with a little more force than is necessary. “It’s not quite ready yet. I’m still refining some of the rules.”
“Based on feedback from the convention?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Well...yeah.” As I say it aloud, my mind flicks back to our earlier conversation. “One guy got in my ear about an aspect of how we’re escalating difficulty in the progression of play.”
“What doyouthink?”
“He’s wrong.” The words pop out of my mouth before I even have time to fully consider them. I’d been planning to spend all day tomorrow tweaking that element of the game, but in answering Rowan’s question, my instinct is clear.
“Trust yourself, Emery. You know what you’re doing.”
