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She surveyed the room and honed in on the crystal decanter on the antique cocktail cart. The amber liquid might not be Red Breast 15, but for her purposes, it would do the trick. She leapt up, brushed her hair, slicked on a red lip, and poured herself a glass of whiskey. Downed a mouthful for courage.
Selfie-time. She grabbed her camera and reclined against the snowy white mound of pillows on the bed. Holding up the glass, she curved her lips into what she hoped was a seductive smile and snapped a photo.
Before she could lose her nerve, she texted the photo and a message to Trent.Meet me in my suite in an hour. Don’t forget your tux.
Her blood thrummed in her veins, she dropped her phone on the smooth gray and white coverlet and gazed out the enormous window. Violet and rose and charcoal gray melded together as a backdrop for the San Francisco skyline at twilight.
Would Trent respond?
When her phone beeped, she grabbed it.Who is this?
Her lips curved up and her shoulders softened.Why don’t you come over now and see?
Are you sure?
I’ve never been surer in my life. And bring an overnight bag.Trent might need some convincing, but their connection was undeniable.
Three dots appeared on the screen and then disappeared. She held her breath. Had she gone too far?
I’ll be there in an hour.
Camille’s breath whooshed out and she hopped off the bed. Time to shower and put on her fancy dress for the gala. Thank goodness she’d splurged on new matching lingerie to wear underneath her cabernet-colored velvet gown.
* * *
Camille smoothedher hair back from her face and checked herself out in the full-length mirror. She’d blow-dried her hair straight and sleek, worn minimal make-up except for her deep red lipstick, and slid into the strapless calf-length dress.You clean up well, girl.
A sharp rap sounded, and she exhaled a cleansing breath. Go time. She crossed to the door and pulled it open. Trent stood framed in the doorway and looked like he’d been born to wear a tuxedo. Her throat grew dry, and heat flared in her center.
“Now that I’ve seen you all dressed up, you really could be the new James Bond.” She recovered her composure and waved him inside.
He flashed a grin and entered, a black leather satchel in one strong hand. Excellent sign. “And you’re definitely the femme fatale sent to distract me. You look incredible, Camille.”
“Thank you. Can I pour you a drink? There are a few things I’d like to say before we go down to the gala.” Nerves danced along her spine.
He held up the bag. “I brought the Red Breast 15, and I’ve got a few things to say, too. But you go first.”
He pulled out the whiskey and set it on the cocktail cart then crossed to the small charcoal-covered love seat. She poured two glasses and joined him on the settee.
“First, let me see your hands. Are they feeling better?” He reached for her and ran one long finger gently along her scraped palms. Awareness sparked down her spine.
“I’m fine, thanks to you taking such good care of me.”
His dimples deepened when he smiled at her, his sapphire eyes warm. “My pleasure.”
She shivered at the sound of his deep, smoky voice uttering the wordpleasure. She drew her hand back and placed it in her lap. Touching him was too intense of a distraction if she was going to tell him how she felt.
“Okay, let me say this all at once. I’m sorry about the scene downstairs with my ex. I’ve been so focused on my career, and I should have taken the time to recognize I haven’t been in love with him for a long time. Seeing him with someone else yesterday bruised my ego and infuriated me but nothing more.”
Trent intertwined his fingers with hers. “Camille, I––”
Her heart galloped in her chest and heat flooded her cheeks. “Please let me finish. I know I only met you yesterday, but I feel like we already have a special connection–– you aren’t a rebound. I totally understand if you’re wary, but I’d love to see you again.”
Trent set down his cocktail, caught her hips, and shifted her onto his lap. He stroked her hair, and she rubbed her cheek against his palm like a cat.
“Thanks for explaining. I’m sorry I left but I wanted to respect your privacy. Last night when you walked into Local Edition, I felt a spark I haven’t experienced in years. Not just simple physical attraction. Spending the last twenty-four hours with you has been incredible. I want to see more of you.”
“You do? We can go slow.”
