"No. It’s the first time I've ever opened a park just to walk with someone." She bends her arm, inviting me to tuck my hand into the space between her bicep and forearm. I do, and the strength of her muscles is evident even through her coat. "Do you get to New York often?"
"Not enough. Maybe I will now. North Carolina is... quiet."
"And complicated, I know," she finishes for me, covering my hand with hers. "I asked them to leave some wine for us nearby."
"Nearby?" I chuckle. She watches me, her thumb caressing the back of my hand.
"Yes. I didn't want to show up looking like I was carrying luggage. It would ruin my charm." She adjusts her collar and winks.
"Of course. Your charm." I spot a basket on a bench with a bottle and two glasses. I let go of her arm to retrieve them. "My charm is going to take a long time to get drunk."
She catches me by the waist. I expect a kiss, but instead, she playfully snatches the bottle from my hand, laughing.
"And how do you plan to open it without the corkscrew?" She points to the basket, pulls the cork with practiced ease, and fills our glasses halfway. The sight of her—bottle in one hand, crystal in the other—is unexpectedly captivating.
"A toast?" I ask.
"To your smile. May I see all of them."
I arch an eyebrow as the glasses clink. "Do you live to deliver bad pickup lines?"
"Only when I'm dying to steal a kiss from you," she whispers, her warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.
"You didn't answer my question." Our eyes lock. Her pupils are dilated under the amber glow of the streetlamp.
"I've seen the amused smile, the shy one, and a hint of the one I want to see more of." She bites her lip, and I step closer. I feel the base of the wine bottle touch my hip as she pulls me into a possessive embrace.
"And which one is that?" I whisper near her chin.
"The rascal I saw in the bathroom." I brush my lips against her neck, and she pulls me tighter before I pull away, smiling. "There’s also the one that's harder to catch than a drop of water."
"That’s my charm..." I slip my arm back into hers. We walk in a comfortable silence.
"You’re beautiful, Megan. I saw a painting yesterday during a meeting outside the hotel... when I saw you walking up that bridge, it’s all I could think of."
"What was so beautiful about it?" I ask. The wind is starting to feel like tiny razors against my skin.
"Delicacy, complexity, and skill." We stop by the river wall. She sets the bottle and glasses down and moves between my legs, her hands finding my waist while one thumb strokes my cheek. "Can I have it delivered to your new office?"
"Why me, Kelsey? Are you looking for a judge in your pocket? I’m not that woman."
"If I wanted a judge in my pocket, I wouldn't close a park for the night. I’d just wire the money. I’m doing this because I want you."
"You usually go for younger women. Models. I did my research."
Her green eyes bore into mine. "That’s business, Megan. I don't have the patience for models."
"Not interested in models?" I laugh mockingly and rest my hands on her shoulders.
"I wouldn't close a park for a model." She pulls me flush against her. I’m completely lost in that scent of hers, a blend of wild strawberry and white musk. "Let me give you the painting." I nod, my breathing hitching as her face nears mine.
Her lips brush the corner of my mouth. I slide my fingers to the nape of her neck. She looks at me with an intensity that feels like a storm at sea. My heart is racing, my breath uneven. I don't even hear her next words; I just agree.
I pull her in. The kiss is frozen at first, but when our tongues meet, the heat is instantaneous. She tastes like wine and wood. Her hands wander over my curves, and I lose all track of time until the wind hits my face again. She rests her forehead against mine.
"Dinner?" she whispers.
"Another night. Is that okay?"
