Chapter 11 #2
She laughs, which has me pressing the phone to my ear a little more just to enjoy the sound. “You’re still at the office?”
“I’m leaving soon.”
“Yes, you should definitely do that. Get some rest, and we can look at it tomorrow.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m delirious at this point.”
“Numbers do that to you. I should know.” I chuckle. She says, “Have a good night, Noah.”
I kind of hang on as if I can keep her voice closer for a bit longer. Though she’s thawing when it comes to me hanging around the office and today felt like progress, I know I need to take things slow with her. I reply, “You, too.”
As soon as we hang up, a text pops onto the screen and leaves me smiling:
Noah?
Why does it feel like we’re whispering through typed text?
Yes?
Thank you for the water and chips today.
My thumbs zip across the screen:
Anytime.
Noah?
She has this way of making me feel invigorated and reenergized. She’s become my third wind.
Yes, Liv?
Thank you for checking on me today. It meant a lot to me.
Not knowing what to say, I pause and read her text over several times. It would be simple to blow it off like anyone would have done it, but we both know she doesn’t have allies in the office who care. I don’t know why she puts up with that shit.
I text:
Always.
Good night.
Good night.
It was a shit day.
I’m close to drinking a double before this dinner even begins. I don’t think it’s wise, and I keep hearing Loch judging me in my head. And though I know alcohol isn’t the answer, I should have taken the edge off at home.
I work my way through the busy restaurant, passing the hostess without pause, and straight toward the bar area.
Holy fuck.
Olivia Bancroft is impossible to miss.
Looking like the bombshell she is, I run my gaze from her head to her toes, over her ruby lips and sultry eyes. The woman knows how to get my attention and every other man’s in the restaurant. Per usual, she’s clueless to the others taking her in, including me.
Red silk dress.
Matching red shoes.
A short black jacket draped over her shoulders while her arms remain free from the confines. Ruby-red lips perched on the edge of a wineglass. Her eyes dip closed as she takes a sip. She’s beautiful and—I remind myself—off-limits.
That non-fraternization policy will do me in if she doesn’t first.
“Hi,” I mouth when she finds me coming toward her, too far to talk but not enough distance to keep our gazes from connecting. I see the quick once-over she gives me before lowering the wineglass to her side.
A fluttering of lashes is her tell, her gaze dipping away before it returns to me. The shape of her mouth forms a reply, and although I can’t hear her, her greeting is warm.
I could study each reaction and assign it nothing less than she finds me attractive despite always trying to portray the opposite.
I’m not sure I’m in the mood to hide my feelings.
This may be a work-related dinner, but we are after hours.
Surely, that gives some leeway to a policy that’s probably legally unenforceable.
I note that I need to ask my attorney, aka eldest brother, when I see him next.
“You look beautiful,” I say, reaching her. Though I want to slip my arm around her waist and pull her close, I restrain myself by putting my hands in my pockets instead.
Her gaze dips again to my neck before licking her lips. “Thank you. You look nice as well.” Tilting to look around me, she rights herself again. “Where are the Torreses?”
“They’re running late and told us to start without them.”
“That’s kind of hard to do since they’re the reason we’re here.”
Brushing my fingertips across her wrist, I tell her I’ll be back. Moving back through the crowd, I check in with the host, who leads us to our table. When we’re alone, Liv takes a long drink of wine before she asks, “You got me out on a Friday night, Westcott. Now what?”
“You never go out?”
“No. Pretty much never these days.”
A server interrupts to take our drink order. I ask, “I’m looking for a small batch barrel-aged bourbon. Do you have any recommendations?”
“I do,” he replies, showing me the drinks menu and tapping the page. “I’d recommend this one. It’s the one I drink.”
“A double on the rocks. Thank you.”
“Noah?” Liv’s lips are parted as she stares at me.
Pointing at her almost empty glass, I add, “Another wine for the lady.”
“Yes, sir.” He disappears just as she scoffs.
“I wasn’t asking for another glass of wine. You shouldn’t be drinking a double before a work meeting.”
A chuckle escapes. “You’re literally drinking wine, and you’re going to lecture me?” I’m lost how she doesn’t see the hypocrisy.
“I was nervous . . .” She glances around the room, keeping me on pins and needles, but all she shares is an exasperated huff.
“You’re not the first to have a drink to calm their nerves. And,” I say, leaning closer, “we’re in the social hours of the evening. It wouldn’t be unheard of to have a drink during dinner with clients.”
Her gaze lengthens, not seeming to set on one particular thing.
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.
It was judgmental, and I didn’t mean. I just .
. .” God, her eyes are gorgeous, especially when they’re staring into mine.
“I don’t care that you’re having a double.
Not to make excuses, but here’s one from me: my ex used to get wasted at events, so it was a trigger for me, but you’re not my ex. ”
There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s referring to Chip. “I’m not your ex,” I say, keeping my voice low and intimate between us. I don’t want her on edge. I want her to enjoy herself, especially if it’s true that she never gets out.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. People have a way of fucking us up long after they’re gone.”
With her hands clasped in her lap, she nods. “You shouldn’t always be so understanding, Noah.”
“Will it make you feel better if I get mad? That kind of stuff doesn’t get a rise out of me. Even barely knowing each other, you already know I’m nothing like Chip.”
Her body bristles, her gaze falling.
The drinks are delivered, but I stop the server. “I’ll pay for this, but do you mind making it a single?”
“I’ll take care of it, sir.”
Reaching over, she touches my arm as it rests on the table. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to. I had a bad day, but liquor isn’t going to fix it.
” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to read a text from Mr. Torres.
My thoughts start to race because we haven’t gotten to the first course.
If I tell her the news now, she’ll leave, and selfishly, I don’t want her to. I want her to stay.
“Is everything alright?”
I reread the message before replying to him. Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I lead with the truth. It’s the only way to keep things on the right path with her. “The Torreses had an emergency in London. Their jet awaits their arrival, so our meeting is off the table tonight.”
She sits forward with worry running through her expression. “Are you serious? What’s going on?”
“He didn’t go into detail. He’ll contact me when he has a chance to reschedule.”
“I hope they’re okay.” Troubling her lip, she shifts in the chair while looking around the restaurant.
“I think they’re okay. They have an office in London, so I’m sure it’s work-related.”
Taking a breath that fills her chest, she gets comfortable again. “It really is a beautiful restaurant.”
“It is.” I don’t want this chance with her to slip away, so I say, “What if we stay?”
“What if we have dinner together?” she says at the same time.
Laughing together releases some of the pent-up tension hanging in the air. This feels real, like I’m seeing the woman I met on the beach in the Hamptons again. “Gotta love when fate intervenes.”
She giggles, letting it trail off. “I didn’t take you as a romantic, Westcott.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Bancroft.”
Her bare shoulders rise along with a devilish grin. The vixen. “We’ve got some time.”
“We sure do.”