Alessia:I’m headed back to California tomorrow. Take care, Hart, and thank you tremendously for the very generous donation to Renewed Promise.
There. Professional, courteous, but clear. There’s really nothing more to say.
My phone begins to ring.
I sigh deeply and answer. “Hello?”
“I want to see you.” His voice is steady, commanding.
I pause, and nothing comes out.
“What’s come up? Is it work?” he asks.
Just lie, Alessia,I say to myself.
“Not exactly.”
I wince. So much for lying.
“Let’s talk in person. I can pick you up in front of your hotel in”—he hesitates—“thirty minutes.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Boundaries. Good.
I brace my hand on the desk for support. Doesn’t he get that my life is complicated enough? That the last thing I have time for is some illicit flirtation that’s going nowhere.
“Please.” His voice is low, deep. Something inside me stirs.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
When we hang up, I get to work blow-drying my hair and applying my makeup. Fitted jeans, strappy heels, and the lace top I bought at Harrods today complete my look.
I grab my handbag, phone, and key card for the hotel, still wondering what it is I’m doing.
Outside, a black car is parked on the curb. Hart steps out.
As soon as his eyes find mine, his entire expression changes. He looks genuinely happy to see me. I take a few steps until I’m standing on the curb right in front of him. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a charcoalcashmere sweater, black boots. The look is casual yet expensive. He’s eye candy, tempting, but also bad for me.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes, it’s ... everything is fine.”
My gaze drops to his full lips, and I’m ambushed by the memory of what this man’s mouth can do.
“Are you sure you don’t have time to visit the exhibit?” His eyes search mine. “I really think you’d enjoy it.”
Apparently, I have a hard time saying no to him.
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling into a private entrance for the museum. The driver lets us out, and Hart guides me toward the staircase with his large hand brushing lightly against my lower back.
“We had a ribbon-cutting ceremony today and then a press interview, but the exhibit doesn’t open to the public until tomorrow.”
“A private tour. I feel so honored,” I say as we climb the final few steps.
We head inside, and he leads me toward the wing of the building where the collection is displayed, and while we walk, he asks me about my day.
I fill him in on some of the details about my strategy session with Joslyn.