Page 25 of Filthy Rich

“No. He only said to make you happy in your design experience.” He smirked at that comment, and weirdly it didn’t appear cocky or arrogant—just rather mischievous.

“Well, you can start making me happy by accepting the project, Brooke.” His thumb tapped his knee where he’d rested his hand. It felt like he was waiting me out, playing his hand at a game of cards, all while keeping that cheeky smirk on his face.

I would never get a chance like this again. Renovating a billionaire’s Back Bay penthouse would be the making of mywhole career. Jon agreed. If I turned it down, I would be a moron who didn’t deserve to be an interior designer and might as well go back to working for arseholes like Martin.

“Right. I accept the very generous offer of your job, Caleb.”

His smirk turned into a smile that made his blue and golden eyes twinkle. “This makes me very happy, Brooke.”

Caleb had a way of making a suggestive comment come off innocent and sweet. I could sense the double entendre in his answers, but they didn’t cross the lines of propriety, or make me uncomfortable to be around him.

He checked his watch, which probably cost the amount written on my retainer fee check and rose from the chair. “It’s after five, and I promised you an early dinner. Shall we get going?”

Just like that he took charge. It was done smoothly and effortlessly on his part. The next thing I knew was the weight of his hands on my shoulders as he helped me into my coat. A minute later he was guiding me out the door with his strong fingers pressing solidly to my back. There was a strange mix of dominance and deference emanating from everything he did, whether I liked it or not.

“I’m afraid it’s raining pretty hard at the moment, but Isaac will take care of you,” he said as we stepped outside.

A distinguished gentleman with graying hair ushered me under a huge umbrella and into a black stretch Mercedes without one drop of water catching me.

Caleb slid into the seat beside me.

The door was shut behind him, instantly silencing the noise of the pounding rain drenching the city. We both turned our heads and studied each other. No words were exchanged, just looking.

Physical space had been used up by our bodies sitting very close on the seat together, so there was nothing left to do butexperience it. I felt his body heat and smelled whatever scent he’d used. Spicy and masculine—drugging my senses from his closeness.

As his driver eased into traffic, Caleb took my hand in his and held it.

I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to pull my hand from his because I liked very much how it felt, so warm and protective.

He sighed just slightly, but I caught it. It reminded me of an expression of relief from him.

I didn’t understand why or what his interest could be in choosing me for his five-million-dollar penthouse renovation, but now I was well past caring.

Because I very much liked that feeling as well.Peaceful. Excited.Distinctly different, yet equally describing what it felt like to have my hand claimed by Caleb’s hand. It maybe should have felt presumptuous of him, a tad rude even. Yet strangely it only felt right.

Eleven

CALEB

She smelled so good and looked so pretty it took some restraint not to crowd her. I wanted to. I wanted to do a lot of things with Brooke.

Once I had her beside me in the backseat of the car, I felt myself relax—immense relief, which was fucking unbelievable, but exactly how I felt. It made no sense because the whole experience was unfamiliar to me. I had to process everything from scratch. Brooke was a step-by-step exploration into territory I’d never ventured into before. I wanted to stake my claim on her—to her—with her. I wanted more than I could have of her right now. I instinctively knew I’d have to take it slow in order to have any chance at all with the girl who had worked her way so deeply under my skin I barely recognized myself anymore.Was this love like Lucas said?

I didn’t want to let go of her hand when Isaac delivered us at the curb in front of the restaurant. It was just the touch of hands—hers and mine intertwined. Just a touch. But not enough.The Smashing Pumpkinsunderstood my pain.

So, as soon as we were under the awning and out of the rain, I took her hand again and didn’t let go until we were inside and seated across from each other. The freedom to rove my eyes overBrooke to my heart’s content was amazing. She was beautiful, of course, and I loved looking, but having her complete attention directed at me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. She hadn’t pulled away when I’d held her hand. She hadn’t clung for more, either. Brooke was not desperate for my attentions. She just accepted it.

“I hope this is okay,” I said, looking over my menu. Boscono’s on the Hill was a new Italian place in Beacon Hill. “I’ve never been here before. My PA suggested it actually, after I told her I wanted somewhere quiet with great food and a decent wine list. I figured you liked Italian because of your picture the other night.”

“It’s perfect, and I already know what I’m ordering.”

“Even Iknowwhat you’re ordering, Brooke.” Some variation of something with meatballs, no doubt. I loved her humor. “What kind of wine do you like?” I asked.

“Something on the sweeter end of the scale. I hope that’s okay,” she said quickly.

“I like it sweet,” I said softly, and then watched her blush again.Fucking hot.

As the waiter came to take our orders and deliver the most expensive Lambrusco that existed at twenty-eight dollars a bottle—and that was probably including a thirty percent markup for the restaurant—I had to appreciate her lack of interest in my wealth. It was refreshing.

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