What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

My stomach rumbles, and I cannot ignore it. I decide to head to the restaurant to grab a quick bite. Still eager to get my work done, I haul the MacBook along for what is now a late lunch, considering it’s after one. Once I’m in the restaurant, I end up with an egg salad croissant sandwich that looks amazing, an iced sugar cookie, and more coffee. Obviously, I can’t do this kind of eating every day, or I won’t fit into my clothes. I grab a small table for two beside a window that overlooks the city, open my MacBook, and begin researching a vase—yes, a vase—while eating one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever had in a company restaurant. Amazing.

I’ve just stuffed the last large bite in my mouth when a pair of muscular legs appear on the opposite side of the table. In this place, where everyone is someone, my visitor is obviously someone important. I grab my napkin, cover my mouth and try to swallow without making a fool of myself, but the sandwich is dry, and it won’t go down.

I’m all but choking when I glance up to find the one and only Dash Black standing above me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

My eyes go wide at the sight of the sexy bestselling author, and his eyes light with amusement at the whole show I just put on. I’m still performing, because that bite of sandwich just won’t go down.

I turn away from him, forcing myself to chew and swallow quickly, and grabbing my coffee to sip before I clear my throat and face him again, with a less than brilliant greeting of, “Hi.” And Lord, help me, the man is sin and sex, in black jeans and a snug black T-shirt, and a matching blazer paired with boots.

“Hi,” he says, his eyes still dancing because, of course, I’ve entertained him. At least I repaid him for all the entertainment he’s given me with his books, I decide dryly. “You okay?” he asks.

“Other than embarrassing myself, yes, just fine. It was an incredible sandwich, which I’m sure you guessed since I was stuffing it in my face.”

“I would, too,” he says. “The egg salad is one of my favorites.” He motions to the chair. “Can I sit?”

He wants to sit? “With me?” Lord, help me, that just came out of my mouth.

“Yes, Allison,” he laughs. “With you.”

“Oh,” I say, “well yes, yes, of course.”

He slides into the seat across from me and eyes my cookie. I pull it between us. “You can have half, but not all of it. It was the last one, and I need to know if it’s as good as it looks.”

“It is,” he assures me. “Which I know because I grab one every time I’m here. I’d normally fight you for it, but since it’s your first day I’ll let you have it.”

“You sure?”

“Completely,” he assures me. “Enjoy it.”

I will, I think, but not while he’s watching me. “How often are you here?” I ask as he’s sounding like he’s here so much he might as well work here.

“It depends on what negotiations I have going on at the time,” he says, shifting the topic. “Millie Roberts called me and told me you set up a meeting with her.”

“I see,” I say, sitting up taller at the knowledge that the charity head reported back on my actions almost immediately. “Is that why you’re here? Did I overstep?”

“Not at all,” he says. “I’m glad to see some attention being put on the event. I was starting to think my check was going to be the only one they get this year.”

I relax with that response and quickly say, “Definitely not. I’m on this, but I have to be honest, Allison hadn’t done much to prepare. She must have left quickly.”

“That’s what I hear,” he says. “I get the impression Tyler gambled on her coming back sooner than later. Can you pull it together, or do I need to prepare Millie for a cancellation?”

I hold up a hand. “No, no. We won’t cancel. I’m a little concerned about the timeline, but I’m resourceful. I’ll find a way to make this go well.”

He studies me for several beats and surprises me with, “Why are you here? Why are you doing this?”

I blink at the unexpected question. “I—well, the auction and—”

“I mean in Nashville. Riptide is in New York City.”

My fingers curl into my palms on the table and I wet my lips, a bite in my chest with the direction we’re traveling, but it’s unavoidable. I value honesty and I try to offer it where I can and where it matters. I think it does now. “My mother had cancer.”

Realization washes over his handsome face and his expression softens. “Had?”

“She’s in remission,” I explain.

“You don’t seem relieved,” he assesses quite perceptively, seeing more than I’ve intended.