Page 46 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

My dad replies, “Yes, but there are conditions because a floundering company is not a good investment. Blow it out of the water.” I wait for more, assuming the agreement will be the same as before. “Get in the black and stay flush in cash. Also, you must pay back ten percent of the loan by the end of the term. You go into default if you miss one of the quarterly payments. Don’t miss one, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.” I finally relax back in the chair, holding tight to the slim portfolio I bought to carry my color-coded reports. I hadn’t run over the figures with my accountant to be 100% sure I am in the black, but to hear such endorsement from my parents blows me away.I can do this. They believe in me.“Thank you for the extension. I’ll make you proud. Can we go over my projections together? I’d like you to see where I think STJ is heading.”

Standing, my mother heads for the door. “I can’t look at them right now. Some investors from out of town have flown in to meet with us this week. We need to prepare for them.” With the door in hand, she adds, “Honestly, Natalie, put your energy into your company, and don’t worry about us. You’re making sound business decisions.”

“Thanks, Mom, I appreciate you saying that.” The door closes behind her, and my dad asks, “I think that went well. You?”

“Better than well.” I get up and move around the desk. When we hug, I spy his monitor. Jolting upright, I ask, “Solitaire? I thought you had my account up on the screen.”

He shrugs. “Sometimes I play to take off some stress.”

I laugh and then grab my leather portfolio. “I really do appreciate you both supporting this dream.”

“We support you. I have a call now, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“Yeah, no worries. Thank you and love you.”

Slipping out of the office, I do a quick fist pump, then leave before they change their minds. I pass reception and then wait for the elevator to arrive. It’s such a production to get out of here, and I start to lose patience. I just want to call Tatum and share the good news, but I wait to tell her until I’m outside the building where I’m allowed to squeal with glee without embarrassing myself or family.

When I enter the lobby, I head for the revolving door and spin into it. I only take two steps forward before I’m enclosed in the pie-shape space, and it comes to an abrupt halt. I put my hands flat against the glass and push again. When I’m met with resistance, I shove the side of my arm and hip to the unyielding door. And then again, even harder.

Crap, I’m trapped.

A knock on the glass has me looking up to see a familiar face in the opposite compartment as me. Excitedly, I lift onto my tippy-toes as if I can kiss that smirk off his face. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

He points at the door in front of him and mimes for me to watch out. I’m not sure I have much of an option but to stand still and hope he can dislodge it, so we don’t spend the rest of his time in New York trapped in a glass box staring at each other.

Setting his hands against the brass bar, he leans into it and then I see him angle down and shove really hard. It doesn’t budge. He catches me watching out of the corners of his eyes and seems to find a new motivation to give it another try. This time, he puts a shoulder into it while looking right at me and slams against it. The momentum has him stumbling forward into the lobby just as the door behind me slams into my ass, sending me flying outside.

Despite my classic and gorgeous black Chanel “too high to run in” heels, I catch my balance within an inch of my life just as Nick grabs my middle. Phew!

I tap his chest and tease, “Your timing was off, Counselor.”

He chuckles. “I guess my glory days of catching women now lie in the past.”

My breathing is still a little off-kilter, but I don’t care. I’ll sacrifice the air I need to get another kiss from this man. I lift and kiss him with no concern for PDA in broad daylight on a Monday.

When our lips part, I reach up and rub the lipstick that transferred to his lips, and say, “What a nice surprise.”

“You’re telling me.” Still holding me with no regard to anyone passing us on the street, he caresses my cheek and kisses me again.

He makes me feel like more than someone he met at a bar once. He makes me feel like we have a history worth building upon, as though I’ve made his life special, and I’m a great catch—not just physically—but for a relationship. I could wipe that lipstick that lingers near the corner of his mouth, but I have a feeling he doesn’t mind the marking.

Without the words being said, I know I’ve found someone who makes my life special as well.At least until he leaves tomorrow.But we’ll worry about that when the time comes.

Stepping back before I maul the man, marking him with hickeys and more red lipstick kisses, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

“I have a meeting.”

How ironic. Until I remember there are dozens of companies stashed throughout the building. “Are you busy tonight? I have some celebrating to do, and I hope you’ll be there, too.”

“I have no plans but you. You’re at the top of my to-do list if you know what I mean.”

“I do and can’t wait for you to tackle that task later. Since you have my number now, don’t be afraid to use it.”

He kisses my cheek, then reluctantly takes a step back. “I won’t.” Backing away, he adds, “Sorry, I have to go. I can’t be late for my meeting.”

I wave him off. “Don’t worry about me. Go.”

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