Make Me Yours

No one speaks as we ride the elevator to the first floor. I’m thinking about Stephen being so interested in healthcare and wondering why that’s the case when he breaks the silence, turning to me. “My apologies for monopolizing the evening, Miss Banks.”

“No way, I found it fascinating. I’ve been wanting to know more about how Remi makes all his money.” I give him a wink.

Stephen lifts his chin as if he won a bet. “So I was right. Not an assistant.”

Remi chuckles, but I’m tired of feeling like the butt of his friend’s jokes. “You know, I thought I was pretty good at figuring people out, too, but I realize I’m not always right.”

Stephen pats my arm. “It’s a skill mastered by meeting lots and lots of people.”

I frown, pretending to be troubled. “Actually, I think I just made an honest mistake. I had you pegged as a conceited asshole the moment I saw you. Now I realize you’re simply an engineer.”

He laughs out loud. “You’re absolutely right, I am. Although I also pretty much hate everyone… Except Remington. And possibly you.”

We’re out on the sidewalk facing Radio City Music Hall saying our goodbyes, when Stephen grips his friend’s shoulder and points at me. “Hang onto her. She’s smart.”

Remi’s arm slides around my waist, and my heart beats a little faster. “I intend to.”

We have a spectacular view of the Empire State Building from the balcony of the penthouse suite. I’m holding a glass of Beaujolais, watching the lights flicker all around this amazing place when Remi walks up behind me, placing his hand on my lower back. It sends a humming sensation through my body. I love being here with him, learning about his world.

“I’ve gotta say, you’re the first girl I’ve met to stand up to Stephen like that.” The pride in his voice fills me with warm satisfaction. “I know many who’ve wanted to say the things you did, but never do.”

“If you’d met my dad, you’d understand.” Turning, I lean against the rail, admiring the way the light shines in his eyes, the way that dimple teases me when he smiles.

Remi’s holding a glass of the red wine, and he’s so perfectly elegant. “I remember you said your dad made you question your choices. You didn’t say he made you strong.”

Tilting my head to the side, I think about this. “I guess I didn’t really realize it until just now.”

“Silver lining?” His voice is gentle. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

“That’s not true.” I’m terrified of my feelings for him.

I’ve dated so many guys, and I’ve never felt this way about any of them. It’s like Remington Key holds my breath in his hands, and it scares me to death.

“What scares you?” He grins, caging me between his arms. We’re facing each other with my back to the balcony, his strong arms around me, his warm scent capturing my senses.

Circling a finger around the button on his shirt, I think about my words. “Earlier, when Stephen asked you if you’d ever move back to Seattle… Would you?”

His brow furrows, and I can see he’s considering his answer. I love that even in this moment, with us so close, he hits pause to give me a serious response. No off the cuff answer. He’s listening to me, thinking, as if everything he says to me is important.

I want to reach up and trace my finger along his forehead, move that curl off his brow. He looks down at me, and my heart beats faster. “Would you ever consider leaving Oakville?”

Exhaling a laugh through my nose, I relent. “When I was young, all I wanted was to leave Oakville. I thought it was a hick town with small-minded people.”

Remi takes the wine glass out of my hand and sets it with his on the glass table beside us. Then he turns back, enclosing me in his arms. I love being surrounded by him.

“I think I hear a but coming.”

“Everyone I know has a big butt,” I tease.

He grins. “Well?”

I take a deep inhale of his cedar and leather scent, of soap and Remi. “Now I realize how much I love my friends and being near my mom, even though she drives me crazy.” His expression doesn’t change, and I add, “It made me sad to hear you’d thought of leaving.”

Leaning forward, he traces his nose along the line of my hair, just at my ear, rising higher to my temple. “I haven’t thought of leaving once in the last eighteen days.”

His words are warm and sensual. My eyes close as electricity skates down my arms, as my panties flood with heat. “Has it been eighteen days?”

“Tomorrow will be nineteen.” It’s a low rumble I feel all the way to my core.