8. Stuart
STUART
As we shake hands, her now familiar citrus scent conjures pleasant memories.
She’s perfectly put together in a lovely dark navy suit jacket and trousers with a lavender silk blouse.
And every strand of her striking auburn hair is in place.
She’s the epitome of the professional woman who happens to also be breathtakingly beautiful.
While I offer her a genuine smile, I’m careful not to give away that we’ve already met. Something tells me she’d rather not have to explain our time together in the lift. The good news is my mystery woman has been found.
Suddenly realizing I’ve held her hand a bit too long, I reluctantly release it, clearing my throat. But, as I let my gaze linger, a faint blush tinges her cheeks as she sits across from me. Clearly, I’m not the only one affected by our unspoken connection, which makes me smile.
“Everyone, let’s begin,” Jason says, starting the meeting.
It’s hard to concentrate on business when I can’t take my eyes off Brooke.
Her long auburn waves frame her soft, alluring face.
A light touch of makeup highlights her eyes, and the shiny, cherry-red lipstick reminds me just how kissable her lips are.
I can’t wait to taste them again. Hopefully, she feels the same attraction to me.
Now, I just need an excuse to talk with her privately so we can arrange a date.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Jason mention they’ve set up a private meeting for Brooke and me immediately following this team meeting. It’s as if he read my mind. That will be the perfect opportunity for us to chat and plan next steps. I’ll ask her out for dinner.
I turn to see if she’s as pleased as I am. A warm blush is spreading over her cheeks. That’s a good sign if it means she’s remembering the chemistry that bubbled between us on Friday evening.
Wait. Why are her cheeks quickly turning from pink to bright red?
It’s as if she’s embarrassed, or maybe even upset, at seeing me.
Neither reaction makes sense to me. I have only fond memories of our prior time together.
I wish I’d asked for her number before she ran out of my room, so it was a welcome surprise when she walked into the conference room.
Thoughts of her invaded my thoughts all weekend. Based on her response, I’m guessing she didn’t let me linger in hers. Even worse, it’s as if she’s purposefully directing her attention away from me, which is upsetting.
There’s one thing for certain though. She had no clue who I was or that I’d be at the meeting today. She must have expected my father to be here. Maybe that’s why she’s disappointed. People are always more interested in meeting an earl than the son of one.
But if she didn’t know I’m a viscount, that fact didn’t influence our chemistry in the lift. Even if she was surprised to learn my title, it shouldn’t count against me. I’ve never met anyone before who thought less of me because of my family. Her reaction confounds me.
There must be another explanation. I guess she could be annoyed with me for some other reason. Maybe it’s that I took her to my hotel suite to sleep off the whiskey and adrenaline crash after her panic attack. There wasn’t another good choice. She didn’t even have a phone with her.
I acted reasonably, but based on the glances she’s sneaking my way, I’m not sure she agrees. I have no clue what she thinks I should have done instead.
I was able to ensure she was safe, and there was a chance she’d wake up wanting to spend the day together. I’d hoped we would pick up where we left off before the exhaustion took over.
In hindsight, I should have convinced her to stay with me on Saturday morning so we could at least talk through what happened.
If I hadn’t been so sleep-deprived from watching and worrying over her all night, I would’ve thought to have breakfast waiting when she awoke.
And I never would have chanced her being awake when I walked out of the bathroom, covered only in a towel around my waist.
Instead, I let her run out of my room as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.
Another thought hits me. Maybe she thought my lack of protest signified that I wanted her to leave.
Bloody hell. I mucked it up.
Why do I care? I’ve never given a casual meeting with a woman this much thought. What’s wrong with me? Why is Brooke different? Maybe, it’s that we’re being thrown together for the next week. Yes, that’s it.
I’m pulled back to the meeting when my phone buzzes as Jason says, “José just texted everyone the schedule for the week. If you have any questions, text him. He’ll help you out. I know this will be a successful fundraising week and movie premiere.”
Jason stands, adjourning the meeting. As I rise, he turns to shake my hand, saying, “Stuart, please thank your father again for trusting us with the promotion of this project. If you need anything this week, please be sure to let me know.”
“Of course. Thank you. You mentioned that Brooke and I can meet now to coordinate our plans for the week. Are we meeting here or somewhere else?”
Jasons says, “Brooke, do you want to take Stuart to your office or do you prefer to meet over lunch? As I mentioned earlier, my assistant is available if you need help making arrangements.”
“We’ll go to my office,” Brooke says.
“Excellent. Let me just take a moment to thank the rest of the PR team first,” I say.
After shaking hands with Hannah, José, and Art, I walk around the end of the table and stop beside Brooke.
She’s concentrating on her phone as if it will save her from dealing with me. It won’t, so I cough softly and ask, “Brooke, are you ready to go?”
“Sorry. I was going over the details of the schedule José provided.”
Her words sound more like an excuse than anything else. It’s not like José’s message was very long or complicated. Instead of pointing that out, I keep my response neutral, simply answering, “We can finish that in your office.”
“Sure. Unless you’d prefer to just coordinate over email,” she says, hesitantly, as she stuffs her notepad and phone into her bag.
My brow scrunches. Is she really trying to run away again? That’s not happening.
“No. Our planning is best done in person. Let’s go.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
I reach for her elbow. Instantly, my palm tingles. I’d swear she shivered at my touch.
To my relief, she doesn’t pull away, letting me guide her out of the conference room. That’s a step in the right direction.