“My grandmother.” He knew how lucky he was to have a grandparent still in his life. His father’s mother, Meemaw, had been as involved in his upbringing as his parents.
“Huh. I didn’t know my grandparents. My dad’s parents were long gone before I was born. And my mom was the black sheep of her family. I only met her father right before he died. Tell me, what’s this Meemaw of yours like?” she asked wistfully.
She’s a lot like you, he wanted to say. Able to hold her own in a world that constantly wanted to knock her down. Creative and street smart.
“You’d like her. You’re both tall,” he said instead.
Charlotte laughed. It was a lovely sound. He had the sudden vision of her laughing in bed, her hair a riotous mess against the pillows, and her body flushed with passion. Shifting in his seat, he remembered their audience, their attention all discreetly focused on the two of them.
“She sounds lovely,” Charlotte said.
“Mmm. Except she thinks this—” He gestured between them. “—is real, and she is insisting I bring you to her eighty-fifth birthday party.”
Her joy evaporated. “Oh.”
Noah was suddenly angry at himself for thinking any part of this was real. For thinking she’d jump at the chance to show up on his arm at a dear old lady’s birthday party. They were worlds apart. He needed to remember that.
He got to his feet. “I need to study some film tonight.”
“Oh,” she repeated. “Of course.” She began to rummage through her purse, presumably for a tip.
“I got this.” He left a fifty on the bar and reached for her elbow.
She shot him a haughty look.
“Cameras,” he whispered through his gritted teeth.
That got her attention and had her hustling into the kitchen.
“This way,” she said as they wound their way through the prep area and back to the cold storage.
Noah had to wonder how many times she’d escaped through restaurant kitchens and hotel bars. They turned down a narrow hallway. A red exit sign blinked above a steel door. He put his hand on her back to propel her forward.
Of course, she stopped.
Before he could even react, her arms were looped around his neck and her body was pressed against his.
“Thank you for listening back there,” she said right before her lips crashed into his.
She tasted like lemon and sparkling wine. His hands were on her hips, pulling her closer without him even realizing it. She dug her fingers into his skull, angling his mouth to give her better access, and he was here for it. For all of it.
For all of her.
He leaned his back against the wall and let her have her way with his mouth. In the meantime, his hands explored the curves of her body ruthlessly. When he palmed one of her breasts, a keening sound rose from deep in her throat. His own chest rumbled at her responsiveness.
Christ, she was perfect.
Charlotte kissed him with such reckless abandon it turned him on as much as it scared the shit out of him. He wanted her with a fervor like he’d never wanted anything else. His desire was all-consuming, almost making him forget where they were and how vulnerable they were to having their every move documented.
A pot clanging in the kitchen behind him brought him back to his senses. He gently threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged her mouth from his. Her lips were swollen and wet. Letting out a groan, he traced his tongue over them before shifting her body away from his. He couldn’t think while they fitted together like that.
She adjusted the collar of his shirt. “There. Now you can’t accuse me of never thanking you.”
Noah smacked his head softly against the wall. It looked like it was taking her effort to stop her hands from touching him, but she finally managed it. Her smile was wily as she backed toward the exit door.
“And, for the record, I had every intention of thanking you in London,” she was saying.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Hard to do when you ghosted me.”