“I’m a man of many talents.”
“So I’m discovering.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations, champagne, and stolen glances. By the time we finally made our exit, it was well past midnight, and I was riding a strange high that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the woman beside me.
In the car, Anica was looking out the window, but I could feel her awareness of me in the way she held herself, slightly turned toward me despite her outward focus on the passing cityscape.
“Nightcap? I make a mean old-fashioned.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. One drink.”
The ride up in the elevator was excruciating. We stood inches apart, both staring at the numbered display as if it held the secrets of the universe. I was hyperaware of her scent, the sound of her breathing, the way her dress rustled softly when she shifted her weight. My palms were sweating, and I was pretty sure I could hear my own heartbeat echoing in the confined space.
By the time we reached my penthouse, I was a bundle of nerves disguised as a functioning adult. I unlocked the door, letting her enter first, then followed, shrugging off my jacket and loosening my tie.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I said, gesturing to the living room. “I’ll fix those drinks.”
“Stay away from the rum.”
I chuckled and busied myself at the bar, carefully measuring bourbon and bitters, adding a sugar cube, stirring with perhaps more concentration than the task required. When I turned around, drinks in hand, Anica was standing by the windows, looking out at the city lights.
“Beautiful view,” she commented as I approached.
“The best in the city,” I agreed, handing her a glass. “Though tonight it has competition.”
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile played at her lips. “That was terrible.”
“But effective. You’re smiling.”
“At your expense, not because of your charm.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
We stood in silence for a moment, sipping our drinks and looking out at the city. Then, simultaneously, we turned to face each other.
“Anica—”
“Callan—”
We both stopped and laughed awkwardly.
“You first,” I offered.
She took a deep breath. “What are we doing? Really?”
“Right now? Having a nightcap.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did. I sighed, setting my glass down on a nearby table. “Honestly? I have no idea. I just know that I want to be around you. I want to talk to you. I want to make you laugh. I want to kiss you again. I want to do a lot more than kiss you, actually, but I’m trying to be gentlemanly about it.”
“That’s... complicated.”
“Because of the arrangement,” I acknowledged. “The bet.”
“Mainly because you’re my client. My very high-profile client who hired me to plan his wedding to someone else.”
“What if there was no arrangement?” I asked, stepping closer to her. “No bet. No professional relationship. Just us. What would you want then?”
