Page 25 of Smooth Talk

“Whoa! It’s his initials—Mason Nicolas Maxwell. So, don’t let him tell you otherwise. Sheesh, Mase. Did you forget Mimi is standing right here?”

He gives another sheepish look and quietly apologizes to his grandmother. Mimi just winks at him and pats his cheek lovingly, then yawns loudly. “It’s been a lovely evening, but I’m afraid I’m all tuckered out. Grayson would you mind getting Thomas for me, dear? I think it’s time I head back.”

“Of, course Mimi,” he smiles at her then nods to the group. “If you’ll excuse me.” He catches my eye and holds it for a second before turning away. That man melted my panties with a smile and a wink. If I’d had one just one more glass of champagne, I’d forget all about my three-date minimum and ask him for a ride home too. Every pun intended.

I need to leave, before I think one more glass and a ride home sound like a better idea than they already do. I work for this family; it wouldn’t be appropriate to get involved with a client. No matter how irresistible I find him. It’s more than physical attraction. We’d connected tonight. Opened up to each other. He’s more than just a sexy billionaire or a member of one of the South’s most powerful families; more than just a man running for office. He loves his family and friends and cares about his community. His speech about his grandfather earlier tonight was sweet and heartfelt. I somehow managed to blink back the tears before my make-up became a complete waste of money. He’s smart, and witty and did I mention sexy? Just entirely too tempting.

But there’s something in the back of my mind that won’t allow me to fall. To trust completely. His similarities to Reed are blaringly obvious, and the thought of being with such a public persona is terrifying. What’s scarier is the feeling that if I let myself, I could really fall for Grayson, and something tells me, he’d have the power to crush me in a way Reed didn’t. I need to remove myself from the situation before I do something I later regret.

“I’m afraid Mimi’s not the only one that needs to call it an early night,” I say to them. “Caroline it was truly a wonderful evening, thank you for inviting me.” I get hugs from everyone, even Oliver who joins us just as I’m leaving.

“Tell me you’re not leaving this early. We didn’t even get to finish our dance,” he smirks.

“I’m afraid so; tomorrow is a big day. I only have fifteen more to finish the cottage, and I want everything to be perfect on move-in day. Rain check?” I ask and he nods. My phone lights up, the Uber app telling me that my driver is two minutes away. I manage to gracefully walk to the entrance of their home without tripping once. Go me! It’s as I’m giving myself and mental pat on the back, I feel a real one. A large hand encompasses my shoulder. I turn, hoping it’s Grayson, but knowing it’s not. There’s no warm tingly feeling, chills or butterflies accompany the touch. It’s his father. Looking like a mature version of his eldest son; very handsome. In the silver fox way.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, “Poppy, I’m so glad you could make it tonight,” he pulls me into a light embrace. Go figure, the Maxwells are huggers. “Caroline is absolutely smitten with your work. My family wasn’t too overbearing, were they?” His voice sounds stern, but there’s a definitive twinkle in his eyes, making him look twenty years younger. Dang, the Maxwell men are lady killers. Caroline never stood a chance.

“Of course not, Mr. Maxwell. As you well know, your family is delightful.” I say, not bothering to hide my smile.

He nods in agreement. “Call me Gibson, please. Only my employees call me Mr. Maxwell.” I don’t bother correcting him; technically, I do work for him. It’s his property I’m renovating. I really like the idea of being on friendly terms with this family though. Not for the money I’m making on this job (my commission is astronomically higher than any previous job— I tried to decline, to negotiate, but Caroline wouldn’t hear it; she insisted on the same rate as her previous designer). And it’s not because of their connections or what they can do for me either, but because I enjoy their company. I like them. And it would appear the feeling’s mutual, so why not.

“Thank you, Gibson. Tonight, was lovely.” I say as my phone dings again to let me know that my driver has arrived.

“Goodnight Poppy,” Gibson says from the top of the stairs.

I turn and wave to him, descending the steps, “Goodnight.” Taking one last look around, I search for the one Maxwell I’d really like to say goodnight to, the same one I haven’t been able to get off my mind for weeks; the man who captivated my attention all night, but Grayson is nowhere in sight. Maybe it’s for the best. If I saw him right now, I don’t know if I’d be able to say goodnight. A woman only has so much will power.

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