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“You’ve been there?”
It was Sophie’s turn to raise her brows. “Of course! The Prix de Lausanne is a big deal in the dance world.”
“I didn’t think you were interested in ballet.”
“My training is classical. I just prefer the energy of tango.” She shrugged one shoulder, dismissing her past as a ballerina. “So, where in Lausanne is the property? Are you thinking of apartments or hotels? There’s a fair bit of competition of you’re thinking hotels.”
“That’s true. The city is fairly cosmopolitan, based on the report. Perhaps a club would be better for the location.” Henry frowned at the packet of paper as if he expected it to chime in.
Sophie held out her hand. She didn’t want to just take the report. This was new ground for them and she didn’t want to push. Still, the business conversation had at least helped diffuse some of the awkward, morning after tension. She smiled when Henry slid the thick bundle of pages into her grasp.
“Have you never been there? Oh, but you said you oversee the construction phase, so someone else chose the location and the property, I guess.”
“Precisely. All I’ve got is an empty plot, in this case.” His lips thinned.
She flipped through the pages of the report. Demographics, median incomes, popular tourists spots. All the information he might need to decide what to put up in the location. “Well, a fair percentage of the population are foreign nationals, so you could do something in an American style and it might feel like home to people. When we were there, the clubs were more in the style of the European disco. We’d have killed for someplace a little more...” She trailed off, unsure of what word she was looking for.
“American?” Henry’s grin flashed.
“Yeah. That’s terrible, I know. But when you travel as much as I did, a little bit of home can be nice. But you must know, you travel a lot too, right?” She couldn’t help herself, she reached out at stroked his chest. The temptation to touch him was just too great. Henry’s eyes heated, but he didn’t remark on her caress.
“I do understand. The travel can be a bit wearing at times.”
Sophie toyed with a button on his shirt. “Where was your favorite place to go?”
“That’s hard. There are so many great places. I enjoyed Germany, and Turkey. Oh, and Italy, of course.”
“I love Italy. I think I would live there if I could. At least some of the time.” She grinned, remembering a cascade of memories from various trips to Italy. She loved the history and the food and the weather of the place. She sighed.
Henry brushed a lock of damp hair back off her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. Sophie settled a little against his chest. They sat silently for a moment. She was content to relax against him and just feel him breath. At least for a little while. But quickly, the tension began to mount again. The conversation they hadn’t yet had.
She felt him growing tense too, most likely for the same reason. Was he thinking about sending her away? Had he made his decision already? If so, Sophie wished he’d just tell her and get it over with. The anticipation was killing her.
“Sophie, I—”
“I should get going if I’m going to get to the studio on time.” Maybe it wasn’t the anticipation that had her tied in knots, because she bolted to her feet as if he’d lit an actual fire under her butt.
Henry frowned. “I thought the studio didn’t open until eight?”
“I have to go change first. And I should probably get there before Darren just to make sure we didn’t leave any... um... evidence of our activities behind.” She flushed, remembering their heated encounter the night before. The muscle that jumped in Henry’s jaw said he was remembering too.
“Okay.”
“We’ll talk later?” She was being a big old scaredy-cat. Sophie knew it. The prospect of him saying he didn’t love her, didn’t want to give this relationship a chance, terrified her. Give him a little more time to think, make sure he’s sure of what he wanted. They could talk tonight. Or tomorrow. Or maybe they didn’t have to talk at all. They could just keep doing like they’d done last night for the next, say, fifty years.
“Later,” Henry confirmed, making her heart drop into her stomach and then leap into her mouth.
Sophie swallowed, cupped his chin, and brushed her mouth across his. “I love you, Henry.”
She hurried out of the room, and his penthouse, before he could say anything else.
***
“Listen, girl, you can’t just hang up on me in the middle of a conversation and then never call me back and tell me you’re okay! I almost called the cops!”
Darren stood in the office doorway, hands on his hips, green eyes blazing at her.
“Sorry, babe. Henry showed up just then and...” She dropped her gaze, heat staining her cheeks as she thought about the “and.” Darren quirked a blond brow.
