Everything fades into black but us and I’m only remotely aware that the skirt of my dress is at my waist. However, I’m completely aware of his hand on my backside and the thick ridge of his erection against my belly.
I’m lost in the moment right up until his fingers slide between my legs and I’m jolted back to reality. I catch his hand. “Wait. No. I have to go back out there. He’s an investor for that museum project that got called off. Other people’s jobs are on the line.”
He draws in a breath, and his hand falls away and settles on my waist, his forehead finding mine. “Just know this. I’m waiting impatiently.” He pulls back to fix me in his stare, the eyes of a man I know can be a cold-blooded killer, and still, they are warm and not just for me. “But I also know how excited you are about that museum project. Go make him want your work, not you.”
I smile and run my fingers over his jaw. “Just my work. I need to fix my face and hurry back.”
He catches my hand and kisses it before he eases back to allow me to move, easing my skirt back into place. I grab my purse, unzip it and step to the mirror, quickly doctoring my lipstick, and righting my wild hair. I’ve just zipped my purse when Savage steps behind me, hands on my waist, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to be my wife.” His voice vibrates with emotion.
It’s in moments like this, when he says such things, with the intensity of a man in love, that affect me so very deeply. I wasn’t alone all those years. He missed me and us, just as much as I did. Our love overcame time, other people, and even murder. I twist around and wrap my arms around him. “And you’re finally going to be my husband.”
“Go win the job, Candy, baby. I want you home and naked, sooner than later. I’ll be with Smith at the other side of the bar.”
I kiss his cheek. “I’m almost done.” I move away from him but he catches my hand and when I turn to face him, he just holds onto it a moment, staring at me before he reluctantly lets it go.
I have to force myself to exit the bathroom and walk back toward the bar.
But Savage is home.
All is well in my world once again.
With my mood lighter, I slide back into the seat across from Kirk. “Sorry, that took so long. The bathroom was crowded.” I barely make that statement without laughing.
Kirk studies me with keen eyes that seem to see everything, and I begin to fear I have lipstick smudged all over my face. “You seem different.”
My brows dip. “Different?”
“Yes,” he confirms, lifting his whiskey glass and studying me over the rim of the glass. “Less tense.”
“Oh well, yes,” I say. “While I was dealing with the crowded bathroom, I was thinking about my wedding.”
He doesn’t react, but he motions to a full glass of wine sitting beside me. “I ordered it anyway, just in case.”
The man is determined for me to drink, and while I would have refused if I was alone, I’m not alone anymore. Savage is here. I feel him even if I can’t see him. There are two large pillars dividing the room, and hiding a portion of each side of the bar from this angle. I feel certain Savage and Smith can see us, even if we can’t see them. I reach for the glass, planning to sip lightly. “Thank you.”
“When are you getting married?” he asks.
“Saturday.”
Now his brows lift. “This Saturday?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “So the nerves and excitement have kicked in.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?” He sips from his glass and that ring catches my eye.
I have no idea why but his question feels uncomfortable. “He’s in high-end security,” I reply, not willing to offer Rick’s name. “Do you have any more questions about the museum plans I’ve created?”
“You’re talented,” he states. “I’m curious. Do you design private homes?”
“My work is commercial only,” I say, but even as I do, I have a flashback to my call with Savage and the drawings I’d created afterward. “We should buy a place in the Hamptons. We can escape up there, just you and me. What do you think?” I sip my wine to suppress my smile before I say, “I want to be the best at what I do and I feel specializing allows me that ability.”
“What if I agreed to fund the museum wing, but as a condition, you design a home for me? A paid job for you, of course.”
“I’d say I’m flattered, but I’m not comfortable being a part of that negotiation.”