“Nobody’s an open book, Conor. Everyone has chapters they don’t read aloud.”
We reach his car, but instead of unlocking it immediately, he turns to face me, leaning against the driver’s side door. “Ask me anything. I’ll give you an honest answer.”
The streetlight above casts half his face in shadow, making him look mysterious despite his claim of transparency. I consider his offer, weighing possible questions.
“Why me?” I finally ask. “You could have any woman you want. Why are you interested in someone who’s clearly still dealing with baggage from her ex?”
His eyebrows lift, surprise flickering across his features before settling into something more thoughtful. “That’s your question? Not about my net worth or if I have a secret family stashed away somewhere?"
“Those aren’t the things that matter.”
Conor nods slowly, as if approving my priorities. “Why you?” He repeats it, not as a question but as if testing thewords. “Because you see the flaws in my designs and aren’t afraid to tell me. Because you laugh with your whole body when something really amuses you. Because you pretended not to notice when I spilled sauce on my shirt earlier, but discreetly handed me a napkin under the table.”
Each reason lands like a physical touch. No one has ever paid such careful attention to me before.
“As for the baggage,” he continues, “everyone has some. I’m not looking for perfection, Betsy. I’m looking for real.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. Before I can overthink it, I step closer, eliminating the careful distance between us. His breath catches audibly as I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart race beneath my palm.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say softly. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”
His hand covers mine, where it rests against his chest. “The night doesn’t have to end yet.”
The invitation in his words is unmistakable, sending a thrill down my spine. Part of me wants to say yes immediately, to follow this attraction to its natural conclusion. But another part—the part that’s still healing from Devon’s casual cruelty—hesitates.
“I have an early site meeting tomorrow,” I say, regretting coloring my voice.
Disappointment flashes in his eyes, quickly replaced by understanding. “Rain check, then."
“Definitely a rain check.”
He lifts my hand from his chest and, maintaining eyecontact, presses a kiss to my palm. The gesture is old-fashioned, almost courtly, but there’s nothing innocent about the heat in his gaze.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Betsy Miller.”
CHAPTER 8
CONOR
Iadjust my tie for the third time in five minutes, pacing the length of the conference room as morning light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of Manhattan’s skyline would usually calm me, but today my mind is elsewhere. The gleaming mahogany table is set with leather portfolios, water carafes, and notepads embossed with the Campbell Enterprises logo. Everything is perfect, meticulous—just as it should be for the board meeting.
But it’s not the board members I’m anxious about. It’s her.
“Nicole,” I call to my executive assistant who’s arranging pastries on a side table. “The presentation materials are all set up?”
“Yes. Ms. Miller’s designs are loaded on the main screen, hard copies in the portfolios, and I’ve got backups on a flash drive just in case.” Nicole straightens her glasses, giving me a curious look. “You seem... tense.”
I stop pacing, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Just wanteverything to be perfect. These designs are revolutionary, and I need the board to see that.”
Nicole nods, but I can tell she’s not entirely convinced. She’s worked for me long enough to read between the lines. I check my watch—thirty minutes until the meeting, twenty until Betsy should arrive.
“I need you to do something for me,” I say, lowering my voice despite the empty room. “I need information on someone. Devon Cook.”
“Devon Cook?” Nicole’s brow furrows. “Is that a potential investor?”
“No.” I hesitate, choosing my next words carefully. "He’s Betsy’s ex. And a potential pain in my ass.”
"Oh.” Nic’s expression shifts from confusion to understanding. “And you want me to...?"
