God.
Heat cuts through me like a knife.
Tears threaten my eyes.
He’s a sales guy to the core, but right now, he’s all Romeo and I’m in pieces.
“Honey, if she won’t give you a chance, I will!” an old lady at the table across from us yells out with a smile.
He grins at her. “Help me convince her, ma’am.”
“If you ain’t convinced her yet, I don’t know how else. You’d better kiss her good.”
I throw my hands up to protest. It doesn’t do me any good.
He never lets go of my hand as he rounds the table and pulls me into eternity.
Strong arms encompass my waist. Hands I missed caress me so sweetly.
There’s no distance left between us. No missed beat in our pulse. No lingering doubt.
Mag’s lips brush mine and my mouth falls open. When his tongue moves in, swirling and claiming my bottom lip, I’m gone.
No longer on planet Earth.
Slowly, gently, teasingly he makes me his, and then with a fury, with a sigh, with one last heave of my soul, I’m kissing him back.
Holy hell.
“You still love me. Almost as fucking bad as I love you. It’s obvious.” He pulls away from me, resting his forehead on mine.
I struggle for breath. “Ass. I’m supposed to get to say that.”
“Actions speak louder than words.” One arm stays firm on the small of my back, and the other drops under my butt. He scoops me up like I’m lighter than air.
“Whoa. What? What are you doing?” I whisper, dizzier by the second as we lock eyes.
“Saving you from stumbling, just like in Phoenix.” He carries me down the sidewalk. “We’re going home.”
“My car’s here. I can’t just—”
His lips brush mine, silencing my protest. The town car dings when the door opens. Mag slides me in the leather seat, and soon he’s right there beside me.
“I’ll have someone pick it up tonight. I’ve been without you too long. You’re not getting out of my sight.”
God, I love the sound of that.
He asks me to stay that night. When I tell him I can, but I’m not falling into bed with him again just yet, he doesn’t even care.
Mag tells me he just wants me to be there when he wakes up.
The most important thing he could say.
True to our word, we don’t make love.
But the ecstasy of being in his arms after so long apart beats the stuffing out of every sweet dream I could possibly have.28A Merger (Magnus)Sabrina sits in the passenger seat with her shoes on the dashboard.
Part of me wants to tell her to have some respect for the ride, my custom Tesla Model X. She’s a beauty, after all, but if living without this woman the last few weeks has taught me anything, it’s that she can do whatever the hell she wants as long as she’s mine.
For her, I’ll accept a billion scuff marks.
“Mom’s agent wants me to market her whole backlist,” she says with a sigh, flipping her gorgeous hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her Mom’s only a bestseller because my former bosshole slash boyfriend bought a million copies of her book.”
I grin, loving how it makes her blush.
I’ll love that look on her face until my dying day.
“No big deal. Publishers do it all the time, buying their own books to ram new hits down the market’s throat. Careful that you don’t take on too many starving artists now that your mom’s singing your praises. It’s not a good move for a startup. You should focus on national brands.” I pull into a parking place at the marina on Lake Michigan.
“Oh, I’m not opposed to national brands, but those campaigns are heavy lifting, and...well, I’m a one-woman show. We’re still a few weeks off from serious hiring. Besides, bigger brands put me in direct competition with the design services HeronComm already offers. There’s no sense in us chasing after the same clients.”
I process her words.
“We make more money per client off the startup. HeronComm is a hungry, expensive machine with lots of mouths to feed and even more bonuses to pay. I profit when the company does, but we’re joint owners of Bristol-Heron. Equals. We’re the only ones profiting when that company makes bank. As for being a one woman show, I gave you the funds. You can hire whoever you need when you’re ready.”
Did I mention how goddamn adorable it is that she’s still doubting herself?
I reach over, squeezing her hand, my faith in her abilities never stronger.
“Look at me, sweetheart. You’ve got this,” I say.
She bites her lip. “Mag, I’m not like you. I don’t think I can just waltz in and be Miss Big-Shot CEO. I don’t want to be hiring, firing, and managing people constantly.”
I laugh. “I don’t fire that many people. They usually just quit because they can’t handle—”