Page 9 of Under His Touch

Doing this in the hall.

Get it together, Megan. He is not talking about sex.

He turns to his side, and I slide past him, trying to ignore his enticing scent and the heat of his body as I step into his beautiful penthouse suite. I resist the urge to give a low, slow whistle. The door closes and as the lock clicks into place behind me, a warm shudder moves through my body.

“Cold?” Alec asks, mistaking my reaction. “I can turn on the fire.”

My gaze goes to the propane fireplace that separates the living room from the kitchen, glass on both sides. “I’m okay, thanks.” I scan his place, and take in the amazing view of the Hudson River, the mosaic of stars suspended over the New Jersey skyline. His place looks like it’s been professionally decorated in cool grays, and the only homey touches are a picture frame on one of his side tables with a plant beside it. His mother had a lot of plants in the house when he was growing up, but Alec doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who could keep one alive. Maybe the designer insisted on it, and his housekeeper waters it or something.

I step up to the table, pick up the frame and smile as I take in a young Alec in his Harvard graduation robe, his arm thrown over his younger brother, Will. Alec has a smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and for some reason that just doesn’t sit right with me. Does he ever laugh anymore, like we used to do when we were teens? God, the times we laughed until we cried. My heart pinches, missing those times.

“How is Will?” I ask, a stupid hitch in my voice as I turn to face Alec. Last I remember was seeing a picture of him in the tabloids in bed with a woman who wasn’t his fiancée.

He stares at me a long time before answering. “He’s well.”

“And your mom? How is she?” I miss his mom. She was always so kind to me, welcoming me into their home, treating me like the daughter she always wanted and never had.

He scrubs his chin. “Mom is well. She stays busy with her charity work. How is Sara, and your aunt and uncle?” he asks.

“Good,” I say. “When was the last time you saw Sara?” I ask. They both went to Harvard and maintained their friendship there. I was sure Sara had a thing for him, and there was a time I thought they’d become a couple. Who knows, maybe they did hook up on campus. Then again, Sara is an oversharer about such things and would likely have told me. I never did tell her about what happened on prom night. I was too mortified.

“A few months back. Is she still with Edward and Smith Law Firm?”

“She is. Working hard to make partner,” I say, and I’m about to switch the conversation back to him and ask about his dad, but I’m not sure if I should. He left when Alec and Will were young. The guys maintained a relationship with him, but it was strained. How could it not be? He left for a much younger woman. I take in the tension in Alec’s body, and sense he wants to get down to business. Ending my trip down memory lane, I turn and place the picture back down.

“Where should we set up?” I ask, and spin back around to find Alec standing right there, so close all I’d have to do is go up on my toes if I wanted to kiss him. Which I don’t. At all.

“Why not right here,” he says, his voice hoarse, an octave lower as he points to the sofa facing the hearth.

“Okay.” I step around him, and plop down on the comfy gray sofa. I set my purse on the floor and tug my laptop from the bag. “These questions are going to take forever, so you might as well make yourself comfortable. We could be here all night.” I tuck my legs underneath myself and glance up at Alec. The intensity in his eyes as they roam over my body sends a spark of need rocketing through me. What the hell is going on here? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he likes what he sees. But I do know better.

He clears his throat. “I’m going to need a drink.” He disappears into the other room, comes back with two glasses. One with white wine, and one with brandy. He swirls the amber liquid in the crystal, and I chuckle softly.

“Something funny?”

“You’re so much like your grandfather. You have a lot of the same mannerisms. He swirls his brandy like that and you both have a habit of smoothing down your tie. I noticed you doing that at the café last week.”

“Tate does it, too. So does Will. Granddad’s clearly rubbed off on all of us.” He smiles. “But you always were a people person. Not much gets by you. I’m sure that’s what makes you an amazing event planner.”

I beam at the compliment. “I am an amazing event planner. It helps when you love what you do.”

He hands me the glass of wine. “I like that you own your successes and don’t apologize. No point in being modest.”

“You own your successes, too,” I say, as I recall an article in Forbes. He’s a financier who restructures businesses and makes no apologies. “Do you like what you do?” I ask.

He eyes me for a moment. “Do you think I’m the big bad wolf, Megan?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to, and if you do, you’d be right. I’m not a nice guy.”

He might make deals that destroy businesses and people’s lives, but I’m not here to insult the man. I’m her

e to get him married. Changing topics, I sip the wine and the tart flavor bursts on my tongue. “This is delicious.”

“Dry, the way you like.”

My pulse leaps in my throat. “You remember that?”

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