She nodded and turned to leave, and that’s when he shifted in his seat.
“Stay, Chantelle,” he had said. “Please?”
She gave half a smile and took a seat next to him. Then she laced his fingers with hers and rested her head on his shoulder. Lance shut his eyes, losing himself in her warmth.
They had been friends, but being that close to her, his hypersensitivity to her touch increased. The curls in her hair tickled his cheek. Her soft hand fit in his. He leaned in closer, dropping his mouth to hers. He wasn’t sure if she liked him back, but her breath hitched.
Lance didn’t hold back. He kissed her. She didn’t respond at first, but then he felt her hand touch his cheek. He drew her in closer. His hunger for her increased, and her desire for him showed as her lips covered his. Lance’s heart had raced. He wanted her. He needed her, especially now.
Chantelle then pressed her hands into his
chest. He broke the kiss, not wanting to pressure her. It was the last thing he wanted. She only stared back at him. Her eyes glossed over.
Lance took her hands in his. “Meet me later. Tonight?”
Her lips parted. Chantelle had nodded.
“Lance?” his father said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yes.” His eyes widened to see more employees occupy the seats in the boardroom. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie.
“We’re waiting on your input.” His father’s hands rested on the rectangular table, laced together. The glare of the sun shined through the window into his eyes. It only intensified his apparent annoyance.
“Right.” He needed to refocus. What were they talking about again?
“The Wilkes account, Lance. We’re waiting on you to update the rest of the board on the Wilkes account.” His father reminded him.
“Yes, the account.” He ignored the tingle that swept down his spine.
***
Curtain framed windows let in natural light. Chantelle laced her fingers together, sitting on the couch in Lance’s home. Her trusty recorder sat on the coffee table as she waited for him. Dottie said he was on an important call and would join her in the living room as soon as he could.
His shelves held books along with picture frames. She smelled the food Dottie must have been cooking in the kitchen. Chantelle relaxed in the soft cushion. So far, so good.
She crossed her legs. Not much sleep the night before, but she was feeling better with no signs of a cold. Though she had a slight chill, her mother cleared her to leave the house. No matter how old she got, Chantelle’s mother would always take care of her.
Lance entered the room. “Sorry about the wait.” He typed away on his cell phone.
His look was pleasant this time. Her stomach hardened at the thought of working with Lance, but nothing would stand in her way. Chantelle had to prove she could pull this off. Mostly to herself.
Brushing her hair behind her ears only made her skin tingle more. Only one man made her feel beautiful on the inside. Like wasted hours of youth, she wouldn’t focus on their history. In the last ten years, she told herself, they did the right thing. At eighteen, it felt like the end of the world. If she didn’t think about it, Chantelle could pretend it never happened. Too bad it did.
Instead, she forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’m sure it was important.”
He sat on the love seat across from her. Lance’s beard brought definition to his chiseled face. His bright smile always made her heart palpitate. Blinking away the notion, she grabbed her recorder.
“Are you ready?” She asked.
“Seems like such a fuss for one day.” He toyed with his cuff links.
“You’re not excited about getting married?” The word left a stale taste in her mouth, but she pressed on.
“I don’t mind getting married, but all this fancy stuff is unnecessary. Who’ll remember the cake or the decorations?”
“It’s a celebration of your love with Andrea. Would you rather get married at a courthouse?” Did she just say that out loud? If she wasn’t careful, this interview would spiral—fast.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “It would be better for me. We can avoid all of this.”