Her shrug told him more than she probably knew. “Money doesn’t buy happiness,” was all she said. But it was enough.
That left him certain that he wanted to make her happy.
Whatever it took.
* * *
SHE WASN’T DRUNK. Wasn’t going to get drunk. She also wasn’t driving home that night. She didn’t work in the morning, but she had to be dressed as Johnson and at a committee meeting by noon the next day. She’d read the script.
She would see Leslie Morrison then, too.
Chantel took another sip of wine. Content that Colin seemed happy just to sit with her. This was nice. Sitting with someone who really seemed to like being with her. Someone she really liked.
Weird. Different.
“You’re very neat.” He was looking around them at the table and desktops that were devoid of clutter. Because Johnson wasn’t real.
But he’d have seen much of the same in her little apartment, as well.
“I’ve always been that way,” she told him, relieved to be able to share a bit of herself with him in complete honesty. “I think I was born neat. My mother used to tell everyone that, even as a toddler, I picked up all of my toys and put them all away.”
“I expected to see a desk with a laptop in the middle of it surrounded by papers and folders. Maybe even a research book or two.”
He’d given her the perfect opening—the perfect explanation. Making a mental note to run home for her laptop, she shook her head with ease. “I clean up every day. More so here than I did at home.” She felt free to expand now. “With the housekeeping staff in and out, I don’t want to risk losing notes or having them reordered from being picked up for dusting.”
His nod, the admiring glance he bounced off her chest, told her all was well.
The shields she normally wore around her—as well as the one she wore on her uniform every day—seemed to fade a little. Leaving her...a little exposed. But also...a little free.
“Would you like more wine?” he asked, holding up the bottle.
“Only if you’ll split it with me.” They both had a bit left in their glasses. She wondered if the place had a hot tub. And then, reminding herself that it had three, wished she’d thought to buy Johnson a swimsuit.
It was January. Hadn’t dawned on her that she might need one.
“What are you thinking?” He was grinning at her.
“That a soak in hot jets would feel heavenly right now.” Or damned good, depending on whether Johnson or Harris was doing the thinking.
“I have a hot tub on the patio off my bedroom.” His gaze looked bedroom-esque. And she was picturing him naked.
He knew it, too. His sexy grin told her so. Or told her that he hoped she was picturing him naked.
Colin Fairbanks was clearly a man with confidence.
She was definitely a woman turned on by confident, powerful men.
Men who were generally turned off by buff, capable, strong women.
She wasn’t that woman right now. No, tonight she was Chantel Johnson. A woman of class. A woman with dignity.
A woman so hot for the man sitting beside her that she was getting wet where she was pretty sure a real lady didn’t.
* * *
THE WINE WAS GONE. When he glanced toward the wet bar in her room and thought about looking to see what it was stocked with, Colin knew it was time to go home. A man who grabbed too much in the moment usually lost the treasure in the long run.
His father used to say that. Colin didn’t completely agree. Sometimes you had to grab a chance when you had it—but tonight he saw the wisdom in those words.
Standing, he pulled her up off the couch, keeping hold of her hand as he walked toward the door.
“Can I pick you up for the meeting tomorrow?” he asked. Like the lovesick pup he was rapidly becoming.
“I’d like that.”
There was a new softness about her. Brought on by wine and the lateness of the night? By his company?
One that would be gone again when he came by for her the next day?
He didn’t look as they passed her king-size bed with massive fluffed-up pillows and a beige-and-maroon comforter that would be as soft as it was luxurious. The details had been embedded in his brain from his first glance at the room.
“Is eleven-thirty okay?” He faced her at the door.
She stared up at him, her eyes open and speaking to him. “Yes. You’ll bring Julie, too?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t pull his gaze from her lips. One kiss good-night... That’s all he would ask, or allow. One kiss. To state intention. To be clear that they were more than friends.
A down payment on the future.
“I enjoyed myself tonight. Thanks for inviting me.”
She’d have been on the list if she’d been in town when the invites went out. Lucky for him she hadn’t been in town yet. “I’d like to be the one to accompany you, to be your exclusive escort, the entire time you’re in town.” The words hadn’t been planned.