“I’m not running,” she corrected him somewhat primly. “I have things to do this evening. I’m sure you do, too.”
“I’ve got time to talk for a few minutes, if you want.”
“I, um—I’d better go.”
She wasn’t ready to talk about their lovemaking. Wasn’t even ready to think about it too closely yet. She suspected she would spend many sleepless hours replaying every moment of it in her mind that night.
Again, he didn’t push. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later, then.”
Would he call? She suspected he would. She’d take that call in her room, and hope Lucy would be none the wiser.
Turning toward the door, she hesitated when he said her name.
“Yes?” she asked without looking around.
“I’ll be here at the same time next Wednesday, if you want to join me.”
That made her head turn. She frowned at him in confusion. “Next Wednesday? I thought you said there was nothing more to do with the scholarship for now.”
His gaze held hers. “There isn’t.”
She swallowed. “Oh.”
He remained where he was, looking cool and casual as he continued to lounge against the chair, but Renae suspected he wasn’t quite as relaxed as he appeared. She knew exactly what would happen if she came back next week. Just as she knew he knew.
“I’ll...think about it,” she said. And wasn’t that an understatement? She doubted she would think of anything else between now and then.
He nodded. Without giving him a chance to say anything else, she turned and let herself out of the apartment. Evan didn’t try to detain her again.
* * *
Business cocktail parties were not Evan’s idea of a good time. The fake smiles, the stilted conversation, the sizing up and kissing up—all of it was unappealing to his naturally straightforward personality. Still, he knew networking was part of owning a business, especially one that counted other businesses among its most lucrative clients. So, on Thursday evening, he stood in the moderately crowded, privately booked dining room of a trendy Little Rock restaurant, holding a drink he didn’t want and swapping meaningless small talk with executives and clients of a prestigious architectural firm with whom he and Tate had contracted several jobs recently.
Across the room, Tate laughed at a joke told by the managing partner of a law firm that had recently announced plans to construct a new office building—which would, of course, need landscaping. Tate was better than Evan at mingling and glad-handing. Probably because he enjoyed it more.
“Evan Daugherty.”
Suppressing a wince with an effort, he turned to face the sultry brunette who looked at him with her head cocked, her hands on her slender hips. “Hello, Ariel. How have you been?”
“Fortunately, not holding my breath waiting for you to call.”
She had slipped him her number a couple months earlier at another one of these gatherings. He’d stuffed it into his pocket and promptly forgotten about it.
He laughed lightly. “I sincerely doubt that you lack for calls.”
“That’s true,” she conceded, preening a little. “But I still thought I would hear from you.”
“Sorry, Ariel. I’ve been really busy lately. Work and winter planning, that sort of thing.” Though he had no interest in going out with her, he didn’t want to alienate her, either. Ariel was an account executive for the architectural firm.
She studied him through her thick lashes, obviously trying to gauge the extent of his interest in her. Or lack thereof. He kept his smile bland.
She tossed her head, making her long, glossy hair sway against her creamy shoulders, which were bared by the sleeveless midnight-blue top she wore with a tight gray pencil skirt. Evan assumed she had a jacket somewhere, since it was chilly outside on this early-November evening. For that matter, it wasn’t exactly steamy here in the restaurant, but he wasn’t surprised that Ariel would sacrifice comfort for sex appeal.
Tate appeared at his elbow, smiling flirtatiously. “Ariel. It’s nice to see you here this evening.”
She turned her attention to Evan’s business partner. “Hello, Tate. How’s marriage treating you?”
“It’s great,” he assured her. “We’re very happy.”