“It’s cantilevered so you can swim out and over the city. Listen,” he warned, “as you can see, there’s no barrier, so keep back. I just wanted you to see the view.”
I rotated to take in all of the Chicago skyline, lit by the brilliant sun, then edged closer to the side, exhilarated to be high above everything—and completely alone with David. The heat of his palm remained on my shoulder, my skin still buzzing from his touch, my mind reeling at the thought of that same hand warming my backside.
What was I thinking? What was Idoing?
I didn’t want to force the thoughts away or lose this dangerous feeling.
I craned my neck and stepped forward.
What would it take to feel him again, to get that rush of electricity? I rolled on the balls of my feet.Lean just a little more. . .
He gently tugged me back. Chills broke out over my skin, his touch so stimulating, it should have some kind of knob so I could turn it down.
“It’s . . .” I looked out at the water, trying to find the words.
“Humbling,” he finished.
There wasn’t anyone else in our world, not one person who could see us on our glass mountain. The breeze kicked up, blowing my hair in my face. I removed the hardhat and tucked it under my arm to smooth some strands away.
As David took in the view, I couldn’t not look up at him. Out here, away from prying eyes, I could stare. I got my fill. I gave in, despite the fact that I’d just told him to cool it.
Another whip of wind blew more strands into my lip gloss. The air crackled with a charge that quickened my breath.
Finally, David lowered his eyes to mine and wet his lips so quickly, I almost missed it. My yearning to know how his mouth would feel on my skinhadto be written on my face. Any woman who looked as I must have right then knew exactly what she was doing.
David’s impassive expression did nothing to slow my heartbeat. He was going to kiss me. I had to speak up. Stop him. Stopmyself. My breath shallowed in anticipation. I leaned in, complicit. Guilty. Wanting. I didn’t care what the consequences were, I needed his lips to land on mine. I needed him to quiet the kaleidoscope of butterflies taking over my stomach.
The wind lashed violently, whistling around us. David flinched and turned his head, squinting somewhere beyond us.
The helmet slipped from my grip and bounced on the ground.
He swooped and grasped it effortlessly, handing it to me. “Don’t take that off again,” he said, avoiding my eyes.
As the moment faded, my sense returned—this time, tinged with irritation that I’d not only submitted to David’s commands but had been about to give in in an irreversible way. And that Davidhadn’t.
“From now on, we conduct these interviews at my office,” I said.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“No?” I asked. “Why not?”
“You don’t have to worry about us being alone. I’d never kiss a married woman.”
His abruptness momentarily stole my response. “Then you will never kissme.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I curled my hand into a fist. “We won’teverbe alone again. If you can’t respect that, then I’ll pull you from the article. Even if it costs me the promotion.”
I walked away and left him staring after me.
13
By Chicago’s standards—or, at least, compared to my seven-hundred square foot one-bedroom in Lincoln Park—Mack and Davena owned a small mansion. In their townhome in the Gold Coast Historic District, I sat on a plush, ivory, cabriole sofa that brought the eighteenth-century-fashion room into the present.
I held a mug of tea, leaning against shiny pillows with gold tassels, as Davena stood over me. She studied theJust Listedpostcard I’d taken from the Oak Park house Bill and I had seen over the weekend.
“It’s lovely,” she decided with a firm nod. “I agree with your realtor. I think the neighborhood is great for a young couple.”
