Page 62 of Tender Temptation

The truth is, the shock of our first encounter has settled into a strange new normal. Working alongside her—shit. I’m the happiest I’ve been in three years.

It’s fascinating seeing a different side of Ivy. Before, she was trying to escape her structured life—and I was part of her rebellion. Now, she seems to be embracing her legacy. Watching her seamlessly and gracefully navigate the complexities of this construction project, I often forget she’s not even twenty-one yet.

She’s brilliant. Her intensity and focus are nothing short of inspiring. It’s easy to see why she graduated high school with a college degree and got into an MBA program at eighteen.

And her class and grace are undeniable. Despite how poorly I treated her the day I broke things off, she’s given me nothing but respect—which, let’s face it, I don’t deserve. Her maturity and kindness cements in my mind how extraordinary she is.

I’m lucky to have once been loved by Ivy Bright.

I wish I’d have been more careful with her.

Today, she and I are traveling to Tacoma for a preliminary intake meeting. It’s a crucial step in the process for the next build, where city officials review our application to ensure its complete and meets all requirements. We’re prepared to go through the blueprints, application forms, reports, and other documents. If we do our job, it can speed up the reviewprocess by reducing the number of correction letters and re-submittals we’ll have to deal with.

By the time Ivy pulls up in her sleek black Mercedes coupe, I’m waiting outside the office trailer. She rolls down the window and smiles, a familiar spark in her eyes. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.” I climb into the passenger seat. The car smells faintly of her perfume, a delicate floral scent so intoxicating, if I could, I’d bury my face in her neck.

She looks incredible, with her blonde hair loose and curled around her face. Turquoise eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, glowing with determination and a touch of nervousness. Her simple black dress is professional, yet the way it hugs her figure makes it hard for me to keep my eyes off her. Her curves are mouthwatering.

Ivy is perfect. Being with her is a constant reminder of what I lost. What I still long for.

She’s still off-limits, though.

As we merge onto I-5, she flicks her eyes to me then back on the road. “I’ve gone through the checklist again. I think I’m prepared, but this is my first meeting with a city official. I’m nervous about missing something important.”

“You’ll be great.” I resist the urge to grip her knee to reassure her. “The plans are solid, and we’ve covered all the bases. The city’s intake meeting is a formality at this point.Plus, Peter Vander is meeting us there, he’ll answer all of the structural stuff.”

She nods but keeps her eyes focused on the road ahead. “Thanks, Cillian. It helps to know how these things work ahead of time. Makes me less nervous.”

The road stretches ahead of us and we pass the time with basic small talk, touching on the latest Netflix documentaries to the quirks of Seattle weather. It’s easy, like it always was. I have to constantly remind myself not to lean in and kiss her. Or to brush a stray hair from her forehead.

I don’t resist the urge to steal glances at her, though, even if my heart aches with every look. Being with her makes it easy to forget the pain of the past, but I find myself yearning to have a real conversation. I want to apologize to her. How I treated her weighs heavy on my mind.

“Do you spend much time in Tacoma?” Ivy follows the GPS directions, taking the exit past the Tacoma Dome to downtown.

“Not often,” I admit. “Mostly passing through. It’s really coming into its own. I think there’s lots of potential for Bright Shipping here.”

Her eyes light up. “Yeah. I think we can do something great.”

“Absolutely.” I look over at her. “And with you leading the charge, I have no doubtit’ll be a success.”

Ivy blushes and I feel a tug on my heart. I’m not imagining it—the attraction between us is still there. Like an ancient melody only we can hear. Despite the years between us and the heartache of our past, it’s a subtle yet relentless tune playing whenever we’re in proximity.

Fuck. I need to stop reading into shit. Ivy isn’t mine. She’s here to help her father, to take her position as an executive at Bright Shipping. There’s no room for old flames or rekindled romances.

We pull into the parking lot of the city planning office. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this.” I get out of the car and we head inside.

Inside, the office is a hive of activity. We’re directed to a conference room where Peter is waiting. We sit down, and I spread our documents on the large conference table.

As the meeting progresses, it becomes clear Ivy has left no stone unturned. The official nods approvingly, making notes on his clipboard. “Everything seems to be in order,” he says finally. “We’ll review the documents in more detail, but I don’t foresee any major issues. You should receive your first set of review comments within the next two weeks.”

Ivy, Peter, and I exchange relieved glances. “Thank you.” She holds her hand out. “We appreciate your time and attention to detail.”

The three of us gather in the hallway and Ivy points to Peter’s tattooed arm. “I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo of some of my art, but I have no idea where to start. Your piece is stunning.”

“My wife.” Peter beams. “She owns the Salty Siren, a killer tattoo shop.”

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