The sound of approaching footsteps barely registered through the haze of desire. It was Mari who pushed me away, her chest heaving as she hastily smoothed her dress just as Penelope rounded the corner, vendor binder in hand.
“Here you go,” Penelope said, apparently oblivious to what she’d interrupted.
“Thank you,” Mari said. Her voice remained remarkably steady despite her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. She took the binder, careful not to look in my direction.
I adjusted my tie, trying to regain my composure and grateful that my suit jacket was long enough to hide the obvious evidence of my arousal. “We appreciate your help with this, Penelope. We’ll let you know our plan by tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect.” Penelope glanced between us, a slight furrow in her brow as if she sensed something was off but couldn’t quite place it. “I’ll leave you to work out the details. The side door automatically locks behind you, just so you know.”
After she left, Mari and I stood in excruciating silence.
“That was a mistake,” she finally said, clutching the vendor binder to her chest.
“Agreed,” I said, though every cell in my body disagreed vehemently. Especially the cells in my lower region.
“It can’t happen again.”
“Absolutely not.”
She nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “I’ll call the projection team tonight. You handle Criss?”
“Fine,” I agreed, grateful for the return to professional territory.
We left the venue separately, the night air doing little to cool the heat still simmering under my skin. Back in my apartment, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair was disheveled, my tie askew, my lips reddened from Mari’s kisses. How in the hell had Penelope not noticed? Huh. Maybe she had, and she’d kept her opinions to herself.
I hardly recognized myself. The image I’d maintained for years had crumbled, revealing someone I wasn’t sure I knew or liked.
My phone chimed with a text from my mother.
Just spoke with Eleanor Trolio. She’s thrilled about your potential feature. Your father is impressed with your innovative direction.
I set the phone down without responding. Shit. I’d lost my chance to tell Eleanor in person. But as I climbed into bed with the ghost of Mari’s touch still lingering on my skin, I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t risk losing my parents’ approval now that I was finally gaining it.
Besides, even though it was a spread in Modern Wedding, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It would come and go, and Mari likely wouldn’t even notice.
CHAPTER 5
Let Them Eat Cake… Off Each Other
MARI
I’d established three ground rules for myself after the venue incident:
1.Don’t think about Hudson Gable’s mouth.
2. Don’t think about Hudson Gable’s hands.
3. And absolutely, under no circumstances, think about what Hudson Gable’s mouth and hands had done to me against that wall.
I was batting a spectacular 0 for 3.
“Damn it,” I muttered, deleting the email I’d been trying to write for twenty minutes. Every time I got to the phrase “firm position,” my brain derailed into X-rated territory faster than a teenager with unrestricted internet access. The cursor blinked mockingly at me, like it knew exactly where my thoughts had wandered.
Our shared office space was mercifully empty this morning. Hudson had a meeting with some stuffy friends of his father’s, giving me precious hours without his perfect posture and nosiness invading my personal space. Without him straightening every paper clip within reach or realigning my stapler to be exactly parallel with the edge of my desk. The man was a walking, talking organizational chart with biceps. It’s why I’d bought a cheap blackboard from a dollar store, written “Rivals Not Welcome,” and hung it on the side of my desk. Apparently, he was illiterate.
It had been three days since The Kiss. That’s how I thought of it—capitalized, like a disaster movie. THE KISS: COMING SOON TO DESTROY YOUR PROFESSIONAL REPUTATION AND POSSIBLY YOUR UNDERWEAR. Starring my career aspirations as the doomed small town and Hudson’s tongue as the asteroid hurtling toward Earth.
My phone rang, and I lunged for it, grateful for the distraction from my increasingly graphic mental cinema.
