Delia crossed to her desk and sat on the chair, crossing her legs under her and spinning to face me. “How do you know I’ve been planning?”
“Please,” I said, pursing my lips at her. “I hardly know you, but I know you’re always prepared for anything. You may have been too proud to approach me first after that disastrous meeting, which is fine because I really did owe you this apology. But I don’t believe for a second you haven’t spent some time coming up with a better idea.”
As hard as I tried, knowing looking at her was a lesson in denying temptation I could only maintain for so long, I raisedmy gaze to hers. A pink flush decorated her cheeks, and I fought back a smile. Making her blush shouldn’t satisfy me so much, but I secretly loved this softer, more vulnerable side.
Mentally, I shook my head. I couldn’t get caught up in thoughts like that. Appreciating vulnerability in someone was a slippery slope. Friendship, we could do. Anything past that would be crossing a line I wasn’t interested in. Well, my brain wasn’t. My body would happily sink into hers at the first opportunity, but I was a thirty-seven-year-old man. I could keep those urges at bay and keep this partnership above board—and above the belt.
“Well, since you asked…” Delia said, turning her back on me in favor of clicking around on her computer. A moment later, a rudimentary rendering of a building appeared, and I audibly gasped like a damn school girl.
“You did this?” I said, rising to my feet to move behind her.
Delia shrugged a shoulder. “I’d already been working on it, which you would’ve known had you bothered to ask my opinion on anything.”
I winced, knowing I deserved that shot.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, but she merely waved me off.
“It’s fine.” Somehow, I believed her. “So here’s what I’m thinking…”
I pulled a chair up beside her, ignoring how the few inches of air separating our bodies charged as I sat. God, what the fuck was wrong with me? It wasn’t like I’d never been in the professional company of a beautiful woman before. I should’ve been able to control myself better.
But I’d be damned if there wasn’t something about Delia thatjust…did it for me. It was a crying damn shame it was one of those look-but-don’t-touch situations.
My eyes widened the more she spoke, my jaw unhinging further with each new facet of the design she revealed. It was perfect, all the little details carefully curated to create a unique but warm and inviting environment for our guests. She kept the building shape the same as what Clarke had proposed, but completely updated the facade and interior.
The longer I studied the exterior rendering, the more a sense of deja vu settled over me, like I’d seen it before.
And then I realized Ihad.
Somehow, Delia had designed a building that looked exactly like the home I’d grown up in.
My eyes flicked to the ceiling, to the sky beyond, offering a small smile andthank youto my dad…wherever he was.
As she threw things at me, I asked questions or offered suggestions on ways to improve. For the first time since we’d started this whole thing, it felt like a truly collaborative effort. Once we’d reviewed everything and crafted a plan to proceed, I rose from my chair, desperate for a breath of air not laced with the scent of her perfume.
As soon as I was on my feet, I withdrew my phone from my pocket, clicking through my contacts and tapping on my contractor’s name.
“I’ll get my contractor on this ASAP,” I said. “I don’t know why I didn’t just use him in the first place.”
“This is a big undertaking,” Delia said. “Opening a new business.”
“I’ve already openedthreenew businesses,” I reminded her.
“Not from the ground up. There’s a lot more riding on this than with the bar, club, or restaurant.”
My shoulders tensed with the reminder. I did have a lot riding on this. My reputation as a business owner. My burgeoning empire and growing legacy.
Making my father proud.
But it wasn’t only me I had to consider here.
Delia had just spilled to me her insecurity about what happened if this project went under, and if for no reason but that, I’d kill myself trying to make this a success.
For her sake, I’d accept nothing less.
I spent the restof that week holed up in my office, practically glued to my phone and email as my contractor, Delia, and I corresponded back and forth about the new plans. I’d sent him Delia’s drawings, and he’d managed to take her bare bones renderings and turn them into stunning digital 3D models. Thankfully, I’d worked with Jay frequently enough that turnaround was quick. The switch from Clarke and his firm to Jay’s only set us back a week, but by the time the day finally came to start construction, my skin tingled almost uncomfortably with anticipation.
Monday morning, I pulled up to the job site early, inhaling a deep lungful of fresh air as I got out of my truck. I lived for this feeling, the high of the first day on a new project. It was almost like the start of a fresh football season, when the possibilities were endless. While I knew there were innumerable things that could—and would—go wrong between now and opening, it did nothing to quell the excitement bubbling up in my chest.
