Page 72 of The Innovator

“I was just going to ask you.” He’d worn the red tie I’d gotten him for his birthday several times, but he needed more simple designs.

Walking around his massive dressing room, I surveyed how his clothes were organized into sections.

“Do you have a stylist? The color schemes are well thought out.” I browsed the racks of dress shirts and casual shirts that made me think of the Pantone booklet I received yearly for the color trend forecast. A good stylist could transform a person’s appearance. He had a fabulous one.

“Bianca was great.”

Jealousy squirmed in me. “Well, these corduroy and denim jackets belong over there with the casualwear. What else did she do for you?” Annoyance crept into my voice, making mywords come out like sharp knives.

Grayson remained quiet, so I whirled around and found him grinning at me. He was wearing a crisp white shirt that cut him as a dashing, cultured man with a brilliant mind and skillful hands that made magic happen. He could bring fantasy into reality. That was what I’d learned at The Fortress. That was where we’d bared ourselves to each other, literally and figuratively. He knew my flaws, and I knew some of his.

His grin widened as he swept a gaze over me.

“What?” I asked with a pout.

“You’re jealous.” A cocky smirk appeared on his lips.

I rolled my eyes, even though he was right. “These casual jackets don’t belong with the suiting. Every stylist should know that.” I moved them over to their appropriate section.

He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and dropped a kiss on my shoulder. A sizzle zipped through me.

“Don’t dodge the topic. I love that you’re jealous.” He nibbled my skin. “I’m looking for a new stylist because Bianca moved away with hergirlfriend.”

“Oh.” A smile crept onto my lips as I turned, looping my arms around his neck. “I’m not for hire, McDimple, but I can assist you for a price.”

“You have my credit card.” His eyes flickered with heat. “Do you need me to remind you of my pin?”

My body shivered, remembering how he had given me the code, which I didn’t remember. I had my own cards, but I loved that he trusted me.

“I’ve got it memorized.” I lied. “You should be more careful about giving out your pin number like that.”

“You’re the first woman I’ve offered it to, and you haven’t used it. Why?” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Because I have my own.” I poked his dimple playfully. “I know most women would have gone on a shopping spree.”

“But you’re not most women. You’remywoman—smart, creative, and tenacious. You constantly surprise me.”

You inspire me to surprise myself.

“The unpredictable stuff keeps things exciting. That’s true for your architectural designs and for fashion as well. If you can make people accept the unexpected with ease, then there’s power there, correct?”

He tapped my chin. “Absolutely. Power isn’t always about how loud or strong something is. Sometimes, subtle things speak louder.”

Like how my heart hums for you. Like how my stomach flips when I think of you. Like the nerves dancing around in my body, preparing to do something unpredictable.

“You weren’t afraid I’d take advantage of you? Or was that number fake?” I asked.

I didn’t want anyone taking advantage of me. Rafael wanted to marry me because my family’s name made him look good. Appearances mattered to people with money and status. And I had thought about using him to help my company recover. Things that twist the truth never worked out well. I’d never wanted Grayson to think I was using him.

“It’s real, buttercup. Like I said, you’re the first woman I offered the card to.” He cupped my buttock and squeezed. “You make me lose my mind. I can’t think straight when I’m with you.”

The urge to please him skipped down my spine. I loved this new side of me. The feeling reminded me of the thrill I got when I created an ensemble that spoke to my soul.

“I suppose we both lose our minds when we’re together.” I turned to the drawer filled with neatly displayed ties, all organized according to color, from solids to patterns. He had a varied selection he probably received from ex-lovers as gifts, but I didn’t inquire. I was here now in his dressing room, andIwas the one choosing his accessory from now on.

My fingers skimmed past the tie I’d bought him and stopped at another tie that suited him.

“This one.” I held up a red tie with slim silver lines running across it, reminding me of his architectural style.

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