Chapter 22 Ava
AVA
Two hours later, I was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace in the lobby. I’d called Hank to let him know there wouldn’t be a second date. His response had been brief, surprised, and then he’d been gracious about it. He’d be a great partner to someone, but that wasn’t me.
Desmond walked out of the elevator in his navy-blue suit, the one that looked as smooth as it had in the morning. His hair was neatly parted to the side, thick and well trimmed. He had a light beard by the end of the day, and it suited him.
Our gazes met across the marble floor. Longing, lust, and feelings collided in that gaze.
They blossomed and grew like a forest fire, leaving me burning.
Desmond gave me a small nod, indicating for me to follow.
I drew in a deep breath, stood up, and walked out behind him, keeping a good distance between the two of us when I was pining to lean against him again.
When I walked out the front door and down the steps, Desmond stopped on the sidewalk.
He had his head bent down and was frowning at the pavement as though it had done something to offend him. He had his hands behind him, and when he looked up, his gaze was so simple, so innocent, and so troubled that my heart jumped a little.
“Walk with me, Ava,” he said, and I fell into step next to him, my heart thudding rapidly. “Stan is waiting for us a couple of blocks away.”
We walked out into the breezy New York evening, where dusk had settled in, the sound of our shoes clicking against the pavement, looking for a sight of his familiar Bentley in the growing twilight.
Our arms touched, and the pent-up emotion in me threatened to burst out of my chest. Desmond and I were together again after a long, long time.
I was crazy for going back to him. I was definitely crazy.
We walked in silence until we rounded the corner, and Desmond slowed his pace as he looked at me.
“Thank you for coming with me,” he said, reaching out to graze his thumb on my cheek.
I needed to clear things up.
“This is just a onetime thing,” I said. “Tonight.” My voice felt unlike myself. Breathless, rushed, flustered.
Desmond inclined his head at that. His voice was calm and unruffled. “I know.”
“You and I are not starting a relation—wait, what?”
He grinned, much to my surprise. As though he knew what I was concerned about. “I know, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want you to worry about what this means for the future. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
The initial rush of relief faded, only to be replaced by the sense of helplessness and a truly silly thought.
What a pity there isn’t going to be more.
“Right. Of course. Okay.” I nodded, feeling shaken by the sudden contradictory thought.
The darkness had grown, and lights had turned on in the streets and buildings around us.
I watched as Desmond stopped and turned to me. He crossed his arms as his gaze swept over me.
“Stop looking at me,” I joked while I slung my bag over my shoulder.
The earnestness of his gaze was unsettling. We were now on a side street with very little traffic. There were no other pedestrians. The two of us were seemingly alone.
That faraway look in his eyes never receded. “I have a theory,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I have a theory that if I hadn’t lost you the first time around and if I weren’t your boss, I’d be very, very happy right now.”
I looked up at him, taken aback by his sudden proclamation.
“Aren’t you happy today?” I asked.
A thread of fear snaked through me when I realized just how far I’d gotten sucked into this game. I was worrying about Desmond.
He took a step closer, and I had to look up to meet his gaze, surprised at his abrupt closeness.
He took his thumb and ran it gently over my lips, which had a fresh coat of lipstick, applied minutes ago.
I closed my eyes, feeling a nervous flutter in my belly that had everything to do with this tall man’s presence, inches away from me, and his seductive touch.
I could picture him being this gentle with the rest of me too.
His forefinger held my chin while his thumb traced my lower lip, and when I opened my eyes, his face had a strange, soft expression.
As though he were both reliving an older memory and wanting to make a new one.
“You don’t need any makeup,” he said just as I rested my hand on his arm in a gesture that was supposed to set his hand back down.
He didn’t budge. His finger didn’t stop making tantalizing circles around my lips. I was going to melt into a puddle in a minute if he kept this up.
“You are just perfect,” he breathed out while I turned away, breaking the contact his fingers had on my skin. He didn’t stop. “You are beautiful,” he said, the words just a whisper on his lips. His gaze never strayed from my face.
My heart stopped for just a moment. Don’t do this, Desmond.
I cleared my throat. Why was I flirting with the idea of this being more than just a fling?
For a moment, standing out on the curb, waiting for Desmond’s car to arrive, we were alone. Desmond pulled me closer. He brought his forehead down to mine, and his breath was hot on my cheek.
“Kiss me, Desmond,” I whispered. “I don’t think I can wait until we go home.”
It seemed like I was destined to keep dreaming about that kiss because just then, a noise on the street distracted us. Desmond froze. A woman in business attire stood on the sidewalk, speaking into a microphone while a cameraman filmed her.
“What the—” he growled, turning around just as his hand instinctively reached for mine. He took a quick look, and his features hardened. “I know this woman, Ava. She’s Bianca Rutherford, a gossip columnist, and if she spots us here, well, it’ll be the exact fodder she’s looking for.”
In the split second that followed, Desmond locked eyes with me, and I knew the question he was asking me.
I didn’t need much convincing. I nodded.
His grip tightened over my hand, and as I held tight on to my handbag, we sprinted down the dark, tree-lined road.