“I know so.” She nods so emphatically that I have to believe her. “You should be very proud of yourself, Heather. This is going to make a real difference for the families we serve.”
“Thank you,” I manage past the sudden lump in my throat. “That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
She heads back into the crowd to talk with donors, and I take a moment to let the compliment sink in.
I did it. I actually pulled this off.
April runs up to me, her face flushed with excitement. “Mom, did you see? Mr. Reese is about to sing! And he says he’s really good!”
“I’m sure he is, sweetheart. Why don’t you go watch? I’ll be right there.”
She darts back toward the karaoke setup, and I’m about to follow when my phone buzzes in my clutch.
I pull it out and see a text from Grant.
GRANT: Go to the orchid room. East wing. Now.
My heart starts beating faster. The orchid room is one of the smaller greenhouse spaces, away from the main event area. It’s beautiful but secluded, and not supposed to be part of tonight’s setup.
I glance around, looking for him in the crowd, but I don’t see him anywhere.
Another text comes through.
GRANT: Trust me.
I read it twice, just to be sure, then look around again. The event is running smoothly now. April is occupied. And Grant is asking me to meet him somewhere private.
I shouldn’t. I should stay here and be the responsible hostess. I should make sure everything continues going well.
But my feet are already carrying me toward the quiet, deserted hallway that leads to the east wing.
The sounds of the party are fading behind me with each step as I pass through the glass-walled corridor lined with ferns and hanging plants, but my attention is already fixed on the door straight ahead.
The door with a small plaque reading “Orchid Collection.”
I push it open and step inside.
The room is dim, but not completely dark. The overhead lights have been lowered since this area isn’t part of tonight’s event, but there’s enough moonlight coming through the glass ceiling to see the shapes of delicate orchids on tiered glass displays.
The air is warm and humid, like the tropical environment the orchids need to thrive. It’s almost stifling, but that could also be my nerves kicking into high gear.
“Grant?” I whisper, taking another step into the room.
Before I can say anything else, a hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me deeper into the space. My back hits the wall beside a display of white orchids, and then Grant’s big, muscular body is pressed against mine.
“You came,” he says, his voice rumbling low from his chest as he claims my lips with a hard, deep kiss.
His hands are all over me, from my breasts down to my waist, then sliding up my sides to pull me closer. Everything he’s doing seems hungry and desperate, like he’s been starving for this.
For me.
And god, I’ve been starving for him too.
My body lights up immediately as every nerve ending comes alive under his touch. I kiss him back just as hungrily, fisting my hands in his jacket to pull him as close as I possibly can, until there’s not even a fraction of an inch separating my body from his.
This is what the aftermath of weeks of stolen glances and careful distance looks like. Of lying awake at night frustrated because I can’t have him. Every bit of that pent-up sexual tension is crackling between us as we kiss.
His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, trailing hot kisses down the side of my neck. I tilt my head back and let out a soft moan that I don’t even try to keep inside.
