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Chapter4
Jenson
It’s almost noon as I pull up outside of a small two-story brick building.
It’s…quaint. Definitely doesn’t reflect the splendor of Boston, but then, there’s a lot more grass and trees out here. My chest aches at the realization Mel has found somewhere that probably feels a little more likehometo her.
When was the last time I felt like I was home?
Shaking off any deep thoughts, I step out of my silver Aston Martin Vantage and squint up at the windows of the second floor. A curtain flickers and I suppress a grin.
Moments later, the front door is wrenched open. Mel stands there wide-eyed, looking both outraged and a little panicked.
“What are you doing here?”
“You said tomorrow. It’s tomorrow.”
Luckily, the words come out smoothly, far removed from the tremor that runs through my body at the sight of her. Her hair is mussed and she’s hurriedly tying a wrap dress at the waist. It drapes over her body beautifully, naturally drawing my eye to the deep V at her neck, and the curve of her hips.
“You know, you’re not supposed to look up private employee information so you can show up at my house.”
It’s obvious she’s upset but still holding back. Must be the money.
The reminder that this is just a business transaction steadies me, and I walk toward her. Mel stands firmly in the doorway. I get close.Reallyclose.
Close enough to see the flush of her skin start at the top of her breasts and work its way slowly up her throat. She swallows.
“You’re still on board?”
She nods.
“Well then, get in the car. We need to go shopping.”
Her brows knit. “Shopping? For what?”
“A wardrobe,” I toss over my shoulder, already walking back toward the Vantage. Mel’s mouth opens, but she shuts the door behind her and trails out after me.
“I—I have clothes, Jenson!”
She jogs to catch up and stops in surprise as I hold open the passenger side door. Confusion races through her eyes, as if she’s trying to reconcile who I am now with who I once was. It must be strange for her, just as it’s strange for me—seeing one another as adults.
Gracefully, Mel folds herself into the car and I stalk around to the driver’s side.
“I know you have a wardrobe. And your dress, it’s…nice.”
She scoffs, not understanding that the bland word came out awkwardly because I’m tongue-tied. Because what I really want to say is,I want to be that dress. I want to wrap around your body like a glove. I want to cling to every curve and caress every dip.
Instead, my jaw clenches.
“I lead a life with a certain level of luxury—”
“I can see that.” She’s gazing around the interior of the car. All custom, dark leather and dark wood. But instead of looking impressed, Mel just looks sad.
“If you’re going to be my fiancé, those who know me will expect you to have similar tastes. So we’ll buy a few outfits, a few bathing suits, shoes.”
She’s quiet for a moment and then asks: “On your dime, right?”
“Yes.”
