Page 68 of Prelude To You

“Aren’t you complicating things a little here?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be simpler for you if I left now?”

I stood up and met her gaze, choosing my words with caution. “No, it wouldn’t be better. I’d hate for you to leave like this.”

A challenge darkened her eyes. “Like what, exactly?”

“With us both being miserable.”

She considered me for what felt like the longest few moments of my life, and uttered a frayed “Hmm.”

I posed the same question to myself that she had earlier.What would I do if I were her?And the answer was clear as day: I would leave this fucked-up situation behind without looking back.

Please stay, please stay, rumbled through my mind. As if I didn’t have a half-billion-dollar business merger that needed my attention.

Isabel rose from the bench like a tendril of smoke, once again a spellbinding sight. She was right; if she stayed, this might get more complicated. But at this point, that was beginning to matter less and less.

“Thanks for putting on my shoes,” she said.

“For you, anything.” It was already said before I realized how smarmy that might come across. I changed course as smoothly as possible. “I mean, you’re welcome.”

She gazed off into the night, her profile etched against the lights of the hotel. Delicate perfection in repose. And once again I was captivated, absorbing every atom of her, not knowing if this would be the last time I saw her.

When her green eyes flashed to me again, I offered her a reassuring smile, even though my insides were at war. The faint sound of traffic in the distance filled a silence that seemed to go on too long. Until finally she spoke.

“I’ll go to the auction with you,” she said softly. “And then I’ll go home.”

Relief burgeoned from the pit of my soul. I held out my hand, and she took it. For the second time tonight I escorted Isabel into the Belmont Hotel with the staff looking on, not even hiding their swelling curiosity.

Halfway across the foyer, Isabel stopped and stared at me, the light from the chandeliers reflected in her emerald eyes. Her breath might have hitched a little. She handed my jacket back to me. “Thank you for keeping me safe from hypothermia, but under these chandeliers, you without a jacket is terribly distracting. Besides, it’s nice and warm in here.”

I put my jacket on, grinning. “Distracting. Really. Let me not be the cause of any distractions. It’s more important that you like me for my deep intellect and sparkling personality.”

And then she laughed, that lovely infectious sound proving disastrous for my restraint.

When she finally stopped laughing, I drew her closer. “What every man needs, a woman laughing at him. At least you weren’t pointing, so thank you for that.”

Which made her giggle more. “I’m sorry…” she sputtered, not sounding at all sorry. And with the most innocent of gestures, she gently placed her hand on my face. “And he’s funny,” she whispered, more to herself than to me. “Goddamnit.”

It was my turn to laugh. Her cheeks flushed pink and all I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss her. And it took all my dwindling iron will to stave off the desire to do exactly that.

The doors to the Grand Ballroom opened for a moment, music and a few guests spilling out. Isabel tried to catch aglimpse of the festivities, but security immediately shut the doors again.

“Do you want to see inside?” I asked.

She smiled at me in disbelief. “We can’t crash a wedding. Can we?”

“Sure we can, but we don’t need to. Let me show you something.”

And so we went through a secret door next to the Grand Ballroom, and found ourselves in a small room with a spiral staircase. I helped her up the narrow stairs, and then we entered an enclosed balcony with a convex window overlooking the ballroom.

Chandeliers bathed the balcony in delicate pools of light and swaying shadows.

“How do you know this hotel so well?” she asked.

“I spent a lot of time here as a boy, and discovered a lot of secret places.”

Isabel breezed over to the window, a small gasp escaping her lips as she took in the extravagant celebration below. I joined her, placing my hand on the small of her back like a seismograph, feeling every little shiver that ran its course up and down her spine.

“The whole affair looks very glamorous,” she said. “But no one seems to be having any fun really. Why is no one dancing? And maybe it’s just me but for newlyweds, neither the bride nor the groom look particularly happy.”

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