Page 14 of When I Fall In Love

“You, Hunter Logan, forgot nothing in the meeting room,” Beth says as she firms her grip on her purse, pinning me down with a stare.

“Not true. I forgot to get your number, so I could follow up on my lunch invitation.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but her lips twitch.

“Unless you want to go for dinner instead?” I say, pushing my luck out of the ballpark. “You look like you could do with a drink.”

She laughs, even if it’s with a bit of snark. “As if you would know what I look like when I need a drink.”

I chuckle. “We never had a chance to adult together, did we?”

At this, a slow blush blooms on her cheeks and she drops her gaze. Some of those memories kept fresh for her too. They were very adult in nature. I swallow at the thought and herd the visuals back behind closed doors where they belong.

“Drinks and dinner, just because I’m famished. And only if you don’t say a word about Collingwood Farm.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, in wonder at this sudden, small victory. I’ll never speak of the farm sale again if that’s what it’s going to take.

Beth leads the way and I follow her to the elevator, eyes on that ass, knowing I shouldn’t stare but I can’t help myself. I used to cup that ass in both my hands, helping her to ease deeper onto my rock-hard cock. When I touched her hand in greeting earlier, that same long-lost warmth spread under my skin, begging for more.

A mere two months ago I had a stern talking-to with Raiden about not shitting where he eats. Also known as not getting involved with Georgiana, his summer intern. How the tables have turned. How deeply involved Raiden got with Georgiana… I’ve never had any inclination to get involved with a woman at work. Beth is a woman at work, isn’t she? As much as my body begs me to stick around and explore this deeper, I have to keep this professional. I have a business to save, and she is key to this process. I only have one night to do it in, and I can’t go off-piste.

Eyes on the goal, Hunter, not on the ass.

6

BETH

I should have known Hunter wouldn’t give up so easily. He isn’t going to bow out after the first uphill—not when he flew to San Francisco for this meeting. As we get in the elevator, the small space around us shrinks even more. I might have known Hunter intimately as a teenager, but this is a man next to me. A full-on male of the species undeniably in his prime. I shoot him a side glance, hoping that somewhere between the forty-eighth and first floor, more people will get in and ease the tension that comes with being in a small, enclosed space with a sexy guy.

Yep. Hot as hell. Hunter has matured as promised. He’s taller than I remember, as even in my high heels, I’m still at a disadvantage here. He has filled out perfectly, all wide shoulders and sturdy muscles under that innocent white shirt. His dark hair falls over his brow, only accentuating the startling blue of his eyes.

“First time in San Francisco?” I ask, just to say something.

“Yes, as you well know.”

My throat tightens at his words’ implication: if ever he’d managed to come here sooner, he would have looked me up. These words don’t help, and I push back against the emotions and shock his arrival here unleashed. “Have you had time to see some of the sights?”

“Nope. I only flew in today and came directly to your offices after checking in at my hotel.”

“Best I show you some of the city then.”

“No, thank you. I have tomorrow to go sightseeing. I’d rather just catch up, if you know what I mean?”

Right. Catch up. Where do we even start?

With drinks. I’ll do this a minute at a time, a little sip and one bite at a time. The next couple of hours loom over me like a bad—BAD—blind date but I force the feeling to the side as the elevator stops and other people get in. The tension around us shatters, and it’s as if we both heave a silent groan of relief.

The problem is, this isn’t a blind date. A bad blind date you can walk away from and never see the dude again. Except maybe it is a blind date—what do I know about Hunter Logan in any case? I cut him out of my life and thought I got “closure” when I got married on a whim in Vegas.

Yes. Vegas.

After that mistake, I stopped doing things on a whim. Apparently I was cold. Too career-focused. And I carried my past like an invisibility cloak. I can sense you’re there, Beth, but fuck knows, I can’t find you, can’t get into your head and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if there’s someone else… And apparently that was reason enough for him to dip his dick around the local ladies at the gym. Some of them even called themselves my ‘friends.’ Bitches.

I’d been loyal to Brad, but also got burned so badly that I now think everything through ten times, and only act once I have lived every worst-case scenario through to the end in my head.

To top it all off, as often happens with divorced couples, my friendship group halved and then quartered itself, people siding with Brad despite his cheating. Seems I was too invested in my career and didn’t pay enough attention to friendships to make them stick beyond being Brad’s wife. Such is life.

They say bad things happen in threes. First my divorce, then Mom’s illness and death. And now, somehow, I already sense that Hunter’s arrival today is the third bad thing that’s been waiting in the wings, ready to pounce on me when I need it the least.

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