Grant blinked. "You want to come?"
"If you have an extra ticket? I'd love to see what you do." Another touch, brief and easy. "I know absolutely nothing about football, but I'm a quick study."
"It's straightforward once you understand the basics."
"I'm sure." Thea smiled and looped her arm through his—natural, comfortable, the way people moved when they liked each other. "Come on. Introduce me around. I want to meet the woman who's been matchmaking Boston's most eligible quarterback."
She steered him toward the center of the atrium.
Toward Emmy, now talking to a silver-haired man who looked like old money and older opinions.
Toward the evening he'd agreed to, with a woman who fit perfectly at his side.
One play at a time. Get through the gala. Be a good date. Stop noticing things he had no business noticing.
Emmy laughed at something the silver-haired man said when Grant and Thea reached her.
She turned, and Grant saw the shift—professional smile sliding into place like armor, posture straightening a fraction.
"Grant." She pulled a lowball glass from the small table beside her—clear liquid over ice—and handed it to him while simultaneously taking his champagne flute.
The exchange brought her close enough that Grant caught her perfume—something light, familiar, devastating. She was taller tonight. The heels brought the top of her head to his chin.
Grant looked at the glass in his hand, then brought it to his mouth. Sparkling water.
His chest dropped—the lurch of missing the last stair in the dark.
Emmy had already stepped back, including Thea in her professional smile. "You must be Thea. I'm Emmy Woodhouse."
"The famous matchmaker." Thea extended her hand, warm and easy. "This may only be our second date, but I have a feeling that anyone who could convince this one to actually show up to events like this deserves hazard pay."
Emmy's smile warmed as she shook, the champagne glass—his champagne glass—held casually in her other hand. "We at Elite Connections are just grateful Mr. Knight is able to make time for us during this busy season."
"Well," Thea said, "he speaks very highly of you. Family friends, he said?"
Emmy's professional brightness held, but her hand tightened on the champagne stem. "Yes, that's right. Grant and my brother West were thick as thieves growing up."
Thea's attention shifted to him, curious. He was still caught on the height difference. With the heels, Emmy's head almost reached his chin.
"I should let you two get to your table," Emmy continued, bright and professional. "I'm at Cecelia's for the speeches, but I hope you enjoy the evening."
"Thank you for suggesting the museum," Thea said. "It's perfect."
Emmy's smile warmed. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."
She turned back to the silver-haired man, dismissing them with graceful efficiency. Still holding Grant's champagne.
Grant let Thea steer him toward Table 12.
The sparkling water was cold against his palm. She'd known he didn't drink during the season. Had the glass ready before he'd even approached. Had choreographed the exchange so smoothly it looked like something they'd practiced.
He didn't look back.
Dinner was assigned seating. They'd put him between Thea and a venture capitalist's wife—both the wife and her husband sufficiently used to celebrity that they didn't fawn or ask forautographs. But their disinterest was so pointed it had its own gravitational pull, all conversation directed at Thea while they shot Grant surreptitious glances when they thought he wasn't looking.
The museum had wheeled out the works—five courses, wine pairings, speeches between the salad and the fish about supporting the arts. Grant nodded at appropriate moments, answered questions about Sunday's game when the venture capitalist finally cracked and asked about Florida's pass coverage. Thea carried most of the conversational weight because she was better at it.
She was good. Engaged the whole table, asked intelligent questions, made the venture capitalist laugh about disruption theory. Grant saw that Emmy had matched him well. Thea was exactly what he'd asked for—smart, interesting, comfortable in this world. A woman he wouldn't have to worry about leaving alone in a room full of sponsors, or at an awards ceremony, or a charity gala.
