“Meaning?” I whisper.
“Meaning that my woman is my world.”
I stare at him as the air leaves my lungs.
“I work hard . . . but I love harder.”
My heartbeat sounds through my ears. Is this really happening?
“I’m in love with you, Emily Foster.” He leans in and kisses me slowly. His tongue swipes through my open lips with such emotion that I get a lump in my throat. “I can’t help it. I tried to stop it, and I couldn’t. I think I’ve loved you since our first night together in Boston. You stayed with me. I fought it, and still, I couldn’t forget you. I’ve been carrying your scarf around like a lovesick fool for more than a year.”
I stare at him.
“So please forgive me if I want to go full steam ahead. This is not a snap decision. It’s been coming for a long time, and now that I’m in a position to act on it, I don’t want to waste any more time. I want you with me. By my side.”
I stare at him while my brain catches up. What the . . . ?
Holy shit.
He picks up his knife and fork. “Now I’m going to eat his beautiful dinner that you’ve made for me, and then I’m going to take you to bed and make you forget everything that I said to you about not falling for me, and then, hopefully, you can show me that you have some kind of resemblance of feelings for me too.”
I smile as my heart swells.
“Okay?” he asks before he takes a mouthful of food.
“Okay.” I sip my wine with a shaky hand. I look down at my dinner and smirk.
Mushroom sauce . . . my new love potion.
Abracadabra.
Jameson Miles just blew my fucking mind.
I roll over and put my hand out, and I frown. Jameson isn’t in bed beside me. I glance over at the clock: 3:33 a.m. Where is he?
I get out of bed and walk down the hall in search of my man. The kitchen light is on.
Hmm, but no Jay.
I walk down to the other end of the apartment and see the light coming from his office, and I tiptoe up the hall.
Jameson is sitting at his desk; his thumbnail rubs back and forth over his bottom lip as he stares at the computer screen as it lights up the room.
I stand silently at the door as I watch him. He’s frowning, deep in concentration.
What’s waking him up in the middle of the night? What’s he worried about?
For five minutes, I watch him in silence. I can feel the worry oozing out of him. Finally, I can take it no more. “Hey,” I whisper.
He glances up, startled. “Hello, sweetheart.” He smiles softly.
I walk over and look over his shoulder at the screen. It displays a graph with a red line that gradually declines.
Stock Value: Miles Media.
Shit.
I climb onto his lap and kiss his lips softly. “You can’t sleep?”