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I take a breath and let it out. “What if we did a complementary app to Hard Wear, and call it Soft Wear for women? Get it? Men are hard and women are soft, and like Hard Wear is a play on hardware, because of your computer science background, Soft Wear is a play on software, for the same reason.”
“Oh, I get it.”
He sits there staring at me, his expression unreadable and I hold my breath. Oh, God, please don’t let him think it’s a stupid idea.
“You just thought of this?” he asks.
“Yeah, like just a few minutes ago.” I wave my hand. “I have all these designs, and no place to sell them.”
“Londyn,” he says, giving a slow shake of his head. “I can’t believe you just thought of this.” He snorts and scrubs his face. “Actually, I can.”
I blink up at him, my heart crashing in my ears, eager to hear what he has to say next. “You can?”
“Of course, I can. It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cason
I PEEL MY eyes open, and darkness surrounds me. I’m not sure what’s pulled me awake, I only know I’m having a hard time staying asleep. After Londyn shared her Soft Wear idea with me, we stayed up all hours, making notes and sharing ideas, and I sent emails off to my programming team as well as my lawyers. She hasn’t asked, or even brought it up, but if I go with her concept and designs, we have to have legal documentation drawn up to give her ownership in the idea and new business plan. Honestly, I can’t believe why I hadn’t thought of it myself. The idea is downright brilliant.
Whispers from the other room have me sitting up in bed. I swipe at my eyes and glance at the clock. It’s three in the morning. Who could Londyn possibly be talking to? I supposed if it’s someone from back in New York, that would make sense. It’s only nine at night there. I kick the blankets off, pull on my boxer shorts and pad quietly down the stairs to the living room. The tree is fully lit. How long has she been out of bed, and why is she up at all?
I step closer, but can’t hear her whispered words. Beside her on the table, I spot my cell phone, lit up like the tree in the window. I don’t normally lock it in the privacy of my own home and it’s possible she grabbed mine thinking it was hers. What other explanation could there be? It had to have been a mistake. Why then is an uneasy feeling infiltrating my stomach?
Maybe it’s because she seemed a bit spooked when I found her in the kitchen deep in conversation. I’m not sure who she was talking to, and she wasn’t interested in telling me, but she seemed upset until she spotted me standing in the doorway. Her demeanor instantly changed. I honestly had no idea she was on the phone when I went looking for her. In fact, I was surprised to find her on a call, which she quickly ended when she noticed me standing there.
“Really?” she says, her voice rising a little from excitement. “That would be amazing. Okay, just text me the details. I’ll be waiting.”
She spins abruptly, and her eyes widen when she finds me standing there. “Okay, I have to go.” She ends the call, blinks several times, and toys with the top button on the shirt she’s wearing—my shirt. Goddammit, it’s hard to think straight when she’s standing before me, half-naked and sexy as hell. But it’s more than just physical arousal with her, more than just wanting to strip bare, and slide her underneath me. What I feel goes so much deeper and it terrifies the hell out of me. But the truth of the matter is, where I want her most is in bed beside me, every single morning when I wake up—for the rest of my life.
“Did I wake you?” she asks.
I scrub my face, briefly glance past her shoulder to take in the romantic ambience of the room as the fire burns down and the tree lights twinkle. Last night, as much as I wanted to be inside her, we had so much to discuss that we talked until we were exhausted and fell asleep. I was content to hold her as she drifted off, like I had all those years ago. Now, however, with us both wide-awake...
“I’m not sure. Something woke me.” She sets her phone on the table, screen down. I glance at it.
“Oh,” she says and gives a flippant wave of her hand. “I had to call New York. The time difference is a killer.” She steps closer, and puts her arms around me. “Sorry for waking you.”
“It’s okay.” Worry slides around inside my stomach, but Londyn doesn’t appear to be upset. Quite the opposite, actually. “You seem happy.”
She turns in my arms, presses her back to my chest and wraps my arms around her. As I hug her tightly, her heart pounds a little harder against my hand. She rests her head against my shoulder, and her soft hair tickles my face. My body relaxes against her as she exhales a contented little sigh.
“Cason,” she says quietly.
“Yeah,” I say and brush my mouth over her ear. A quiver goes through her and I revel in the movement of her body, the way it wraps around me and squeezes my heart.
“I am...happy. This gorgeous tree. This beautiful fire. The French Riviera.”
“Your new Soft Wear idea.”
She chuckles slightly. “That’s the icing on the cake.” She goes quiet, and we watch the tree for a bit. She finally breaks the silence and says, “It just feels like things are coming together for me.” Her head dips. “Why do I find that so frightening?”
I spin her in my arms, and catch the turbulence in her eyes. “Because you don’t believe in yourself, Londyn. You’re afraid of failure. I think that’s what’s been holding you back. You’re so goddamn afraid of disappointing your family, your confidence isn’t what it should be.”
“I try,” she says meekly, and my heart reaches out to the girl seeking approval from a man who will never give it. Sometimes I think I’m the lucky one. No father at all is better than one who is manipulative and controlling. Londyn deserves so much better than that.
“I know you do. But you need to believe in yourself. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.”
