Page 7 of The Tryst

One glance, one long-held stare, and I’d wanted to break my hookup rules, march over to her, and ask her out that night. Probably would have if I wasn’t a believer in punctuality. But I had a commitment to that VIP session.

Now, I have a commitment to a keynote.

But if I see her again, I just might break my rules.

3

A CONFIDENTIAL MATTER

Layla

After lunch I grab coffee witha friend from business school, excited to meet up with Raven so soon after our graduation. We snag a nook in the conference center where we can chat and watch the four-lane traffic in the hallway go by.She lives in my neighborhood in Manhattan, running the site for her fashion upcycling business, so we debate every New Yorker’s favorite topic—the woes of real estate—when a flurry of conference organizers marches down the hall.

The pack moves in lockstep, led by a woman with a short dark bob. The name Valeria shines on her silver name tag.

“Make sure the deck is queued up with the right name. If the wrong deck plays and Mikka’s name appears, I will eat my shoes,” she informs the man by her side.

I turn back to the fair-skinned, freckle-faced Raven, amused. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Shoe-eating at three,” my friend says, but she sounds distracted as she grabs her phone, swipes a few times, then slumps her shoulders. “Thisis what she’s talking about.”

She shows me the conference app on her screen where Mikka Halla’s name is gone from the keynote list. Someone I’ve never heard of is replacing him. Nick Adams of Alpha Ventures will talk about opportunity. “Bye-bye, Finnish visionary I wanted to hear,” Raven says with a frown.

Are you kidding me? I sigh, equally annoyed. “He was one of the big reasons I bought a ticket.”

“Want to cut out of here early?”

Tempting.

But the wordopportunitylodges in my brain. What if this understudy is better than the lead?

“I think I’ll stick around. You never know,” I say, rolling the dice.

She waves goodbye, and when she’s gone I’m about to google the new guy but my phone buzzes. It’s Geeta, so I take the call.

“So, I had this idea for a fantastic upgrade,” she says, and brainstorming with her keeps me busy for the next hour.

* * *

As I queue near the front of the line for the keynote session, I google Nick Adams at last. His picture pops up, and I stifle a gasp.

That’s him.

The man from yesterday. With the dark hair, the trim beard, and the eyes with the crinkles at the corner, showing some age, some maturity. And a delicious sense of power in the way he gazes at the camera with a challenging stare.

When I glance up from my phone,those eyesare looking right at me.

Again.

He’s walking in the direction of the stage door on the other side of the wide hallway. My breath catches as his gaze lingers on my face.

Our eyes lock. There’s a moment when I feel…caught once more by the man.

Then, he swallows, like he’s re-sorting his thoughts, like he knows he shouldn’t stare this long before he’s about to go onstage and give a talk to a packed crowd.

But with the way he luxuriates on my face, it’s like it’s nighttime and I’m at a sleek, low-lit bar, and he’s the man about to stalk right over to me, curl a hand around the back of my head, and press ashe’s minekiss to my cheek.

As he passes, he glances down, but seconds later his eyes are back on mine again, as if he simply had to look twice, so I send him a hint of a seductive smile.

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