Emmy's flush deepened. Her chin lifted. "I believe accuracy is always appropriate."
Cecelia stepped forward, smile sharp enough to cut. "Margaret, have you met our star client? Grant Knight, Dr. Margaret Ashford."
Grant found his voice. Extended his hand. "Dr. Ashford."
Her grip was firm. "Your matchmaker is quite... spirited in your defense."
"Emmy's one of the smartest people I know." The words came out steady, professional, while his pulse hammered against his collar. "If she says something's accurate, it probably is."
Emmy's attention snapped to him. Those eyes wide, flush still bright on her cheeks.
Thea stiffened beside him.
"If you'll excuse us," Grant continued, already turning toward Thea, "I think we should probably call it a night."
Thea's eyebrows rose. But she was too polished to make a scene. "Of course."
Grant nodded to the circle. Didn't look back at Emmy, though he tracked her in his peripheral vision the way he tracked pressure off the edge—automatically, involuntarily. The way her hand reached for her abandoned champagne, then stopped.How she was still breathing hard. The exact shade of pink spreading across her collarbone.
She'd studied football for him.
After his own date had dismissed him to his face.
He needed to end things with Thea.
And then he needed air.
Grant caught Thea's elbow before she could drift back into the atrium's warmth.
"Outside," he said. "Two minutes."
To her credit, she didn't argue. Just collected her coat from the check and followed him into the marble corridor where museum security pretended not to notice them.
"That was quite a scene." Thea slipped into her coat, the emerald silk settling around her shoulders. "Your matchmaker is very protective."
"She was right."
"Of course she was. I wasn't disagreeing with her." Thea turned, adjusting her collar—precise, controlled. "I was trying to defuse the situation. Dr. Ashford is a major donor. Emmy was making a scene."
Grant's hands stilled on his own coat. "She was defending me after you dismissed me."
"I didn't dismiss you." Genuine surprise. "Grant, I was being diplomatic. You know how these events work—you can't challenge a donor to their face."
"You told a room full of people to leave the thinking to the academics."
"I was joking—" But her mouth opened, then closed. She blinked once. "You're very good at what you do. I never suggested otherwise."
"Efficient at the physical side."
Thea reached for his arm. Grant stepped back—not far, just enough. The same distance he'd put between them outside the restaurant on their first date when she'd wanted to see his penthouse view.
She went still. Then studied his face the way she might study a text she'd misread.
"This isn't about Dr. Ashford," she said quietly. "Or even what I said."
"No."
"Then what?"
