Looking Inside

After a delicious dinner, Trey took her to his penthouse. They’d barely gotten off the elevator before they were yanking each other’s clothes off. It seemed they couldn’t get enough of each other, and they couldn’t get it fast enough.

After they’d made love, they held each other and Eleanor stared out the opened windows at her building next door. Her eyelids were growing heavier by the second.

“Trey?” she asked him quietly, breaking the silence.

“Hmmm?” he replied as he stroked her shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were such a good dancer?” she mumbled.

He snorted. “I can stumble around in close approximation to the beat, so I’m a good dancer?”

“You did a lot better than that,” she insisted, pressing her lips to his chest. “Thank you again.”

He laughed gruffly. “You’ve thanked me dozens of times already. You’re welcome. But it wasn’t a big deal. I get to go to concerts a lot. It’s a job perk. You made it a hell of a lot more enjoyable for me, so I should be thanking you. I’ll take you to as many concerts as you like,” he finished, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Her heart jumped at that, as it did anytime he referenced them being together in the future. Her emotions felt especially sensitive to the topic after tonight, after her realization she’d fallen for him.

Still, he hadn’t understood what she meant.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Not entirely, anyway,” she said, snuggling closer to his warm, hard body and sighing in contentment. All the adrenaline from the night ran thin in her blood, and exhaustion was finally taking over.

“What did you mean, then?”

“I’m not thanking you just for taking me backstage to an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime concert. I’ve never danced on a big stage like that, right out there in the middle of the spotlight with such a huge audience,” she said groggily. “It was a little scary. But I was with you,” she whispered. She placed her hand facedown on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “So everything was okay,” she mumbled before she sunk into a deep, content sleep.

EIGHTEEN

She was late getting to work the next morning because she was hesitant to leave Trey’s arms. Her one consolation was that he seemed just as reluctant to let her go. One thing was certain: the over-the-top attraction to each other they’d shared from the beginning was only growing stron

ger.

Nevertheless, she had no choice but to leave him. Not only was her work schedule packed following the holiday, she had the reading event tonight. She and Trey had agreed to get together for a late supper afterward. With the public opening of the exhibit tomorrow, she had her work cut out for her today.

Adding to all that, she hoped to get out of the museum before six to go home and get her sexy on before the reading event. She’d been cooking up a little idea to drive Trey a little wild during it, and yet still put him in the driver’s seat. It was risky on her part, but so potentially exciting. She couldn’t wait.

She barely got out her condo door that morning in a presentable state, her hair piled on top of her head and wearing a practical, comfortable dress and a pair of ugly flats that would keep her feet from aching as she accumulated her typical miles walking around the museum every day.

Even though she felt a little flustered about being late, she couldn’t wipe the grin from her face that morning as she helped Jimmy with some improvements they wanted to make on the exhibit. Every time she thought about the night before with Trey—every time she thought of him, period—her happiness swelled.

“Somebody sure is smitten,” Jimmy teased her at lunch in the cafeteria that day. She’d told him all about the surprise concert and Trey’s backstage pass and dancing on the stage with him and the artists for the raucous, unforgettable finale.

She tried to erase her stupid grin, but couldn’t entirely. “What makes you say that?” she asked, pretending nonchalance, and not caring that she was unsuccessful.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you decided that bodice on that Lincoln dress needed an emergency remount to keep the fabric safe, and you normally would have been snarling and barking orders at everyone, half in a panic with the exhibition opening in less than twenty-four hours. Instead, you were all sweetness and smiles, and got it all done in record time. If that’s what love does to you, sign me up.”

Jimmy arched his brows. He’d been baiting her about the love thing, trying to draw her out. But her realizations about her feelings for Trey were too new. Too raw and powerful.

Too intimidating.

If she started to talk about it out loud to Jimmy, maybe it’d become more real. She’d potentially have to acknowledge that given their mutual agreement at the beginning of their relationship, it was impossible to know exactly how intense or permanent things stood between Trey and her. She might have to admit to herself that she wasn’t precisely sure what the future held for them . . . or have to concede everything could disintegrate to dust at a random flick of fate or a turn of mood.

Picking it all apart in a conversation with Jimmy might dim the magic, and that was something she just wasn’t willing to do yet.

“Speaking of which, since we did get everything done for the Mary Todd Lincoln exhibit, is it okay with you if I retreat down below for the rest of the afternoon?” she asked Jimmy, circumventing his fishing-for-gossip expedition. “We just received that private collection that includes the Margaret Harrison inaugural ball gown, and I only have Betsey until four o’clock today to help me start to unpack it all.”

Jimmy agreed.

Betsey and she began the unpacking, cataloging and storage process of costumes, photos and ephemera. The collection was all from the last twenty years of the nineteenth century and was associated with the Chicago political and social scene, a favorite topic of Eleanor’s. It was a ripe opportunity in which to completely lose track of time.