Chapter 18 #2
“The Wish Project addresses overlooked or stigmatized issues. Where most people see a handicap or child with mental health issues, we see a life that should be validated. We can’t overcome a prognosis, but we can make their time here memorable.
What makes us unique is that we are focused on hyper-local impact.
One state, one mission. That’s why Jake is the perfect person to partner with for this campaign.
He’s a local hero. And Texas loves a good hero.
Plus, Nova’s home track is in Austin. It’s a no-brainer. ”
Pierre raised an impressed brow at Jake.
“Told you she was good,” Jake said, and she wanted to hug him for his confidence in her.
“How would this benefit my company?” Pierre asked, and she felt as if this were some kind of test. That her answer would determine if he would be a sponsor or not.
Her boss would tell her to go with the hard sell, but that wasn’t Georgia’s style.
She’d put this together, listening to her gut and not some corporate blueprint.
So instead of following company policy, she was going to follow her heart.
It had never failed her before. Well, except for that one time.
“I’m not going to bullshit you. It probably won’t help your company, but the reason people donate is because it helps kids who are in desperate need of some happy in their little lives. I believe if we can help, then we should. Who else will, if not us?”
Pierre gave a big smile that wrinkled his mustache. “I like how honest you are. Most of the time people try to sell me on what they can do for me, which is normally nothing. You didn’t. You got to the heart of the matter without embellishing the details to win me over.”
Georgia felt like she’d won the Nobel Peace Prize.
“Does that mean we can count on you for support?” Mr. Whitman said from behind Georgia.
“I’ll have my people reach out next week. While I am impressed by your foundation, I am more impressed with you,” Pierre said. But instead of taking Whitman’s hand, he took Georgia’s.
After Pierre walked off Mr. Whitman turned to Georgia. “I have to say I am more than impressed with what you’ve accomplished in just this short amount of time. Which is why I am delighted to offer you the new job as senior coordinator.”
“Thank you, Mr. Whitmore,” Georgia said, practically exploding with excitement over just how many wishes this would allow her to fulfill.
“Thank you,” Whitmore said, then turned to Jake. “You’d better lock this one down and fast.”
“Working on it,” Jake said.
Georgia waited until Pierre was gone, then spun around to face Jake. “What do you mean? ‘Working on it?’ There is nothing to work on.”
He just smiled that annoying smile. “Dance with me.”
“No, we’re still arguing.”
“Then let’s argue on the dance floor.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like you in my arms while we flirt.”
“It’s not flirting. It’s a disagreement.”
“Do you remember how we used to settle disagreements?” His voice was smooth velvet.
“We’re not talking about that.”
“But now you’re thinking about it.”
Before she could snap back, he took her hand and led her to the center of the room. She looked around to see smartly dressed couples in intimate embraces, breathing in the same air. It was beautiful—and dangerous.
“Maybe we should skip that dance,” she said.
“Afraid?”
“Never.”
He pulled her to him until her body was pressed against his—all their yummy parts lining up. One massive hand rested on the lower slope of her back, just a finger’s length away from her butt. His other hand was holding hers with a gentle confidence that could a bring a woman to her knees.
A woman like you.
They swayed in silence for a moment as “White Christmas” played in the background, before he lowered his mouth to her ear, his lips grazing the outer shell. She shivered.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”
“You were too busy looking at my toes.”
“What can I say? Petal Pink polish always does me in. But you knew that. Did you wear it for me, darlin’?”
“It just happened to be the only polish I had with me.”
They both knew it was a lie, but he let it go.
Georgia focused on the strings humming through the air, low and lovely like a lullaby at sunset. Which had her thinking of last sunset. Which made her lips tingle.
Don’t go there.
She looked at the couples spinning around the track, that had been turned into a dancefloor a little girl dancing on her dad’s shoes.
Georgia felt as if she was living someone else’s life.
Somone who belonged to this world. Someone like Jake Evans.
Not someone who ate cereal for dinner and thought lip gloss was dressing up.
He led her across the floor with one hand cradling hers like this night was preordained.
Like they’d been doing this forever. Like he hadn’t walked into her life, ruined her ability to trust properly, and made her feel like maybe—maybe—love could be real.
Only to throw a bomb into what had been the most important relationship of her life.
“You’ve gone very quiet,” he said, his voice smooth and addictive. “Which means either you’re planning your exit or trying to figure out how to kiss me without ruining your lipstick.”
“Both,” she admitted.
A devastating grin kicks up on one side of his mouth. “We can do the first one now and save you the trouble of the second.”
Her breath left her lungs in one big exhale. Screw him and that sultry drawl. And his manly hands that fit perfectly where her dress dipped low.
“The other day—” she began, then forgot what she was saying when he pulled her just a little closer.
“The other day, what?”
“Was a spur of the moment decision that complicated everything.”
“Was it?” His cocky tone turned gentler. “Because I’ve got plans for tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after that. If you’re wondering, it includes you. Me. A bottle of wine. A six pack. And your weird obsession with Christmas romcoms.”
“Die Hard isn’t a romcom and I watch that every year.”
“Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie.”
“Take that back.”
“I like it when you get feisty.”
She told herself to walk away, but her body didn’t get the memo and she swayed closer. “The world is your home. My home base is here. You race cars for a living and date women who go to the Met Gala. Your car costs more than my house.”
“My truck is more my style.”
Didn’t she know it. And that was the crux of the problem.
Beneath the facade of Jake “Every Time” Evans was a small-town boy with a soft heart and a big dream.
Unfortunately, his dream came between them once.
She wasn’t willing to risk her heart again.
Especially since it took her years to rebound from the fallout.
In fact, there was still a Jake-sized hole in her heart that would never be filled.
“That’s a bit judgy,” he whispered, lowering his head to rest in the crook of her neck. His breath skated down her throat. “Only two of them went to the Met.”
She choked on a laugh and tried not to breathe in too deeply with him this close. But she couldn’t help herself and inhaled the yummy scent of winter nights and very expensive regret.
“We don’t fit. Your life is all about chaos. I need to—”
“Be in control?” he finished for her. “That’s what makes us compatible. Have you ever heard of opposites attract?”
His thumb skimmed down her bare back, stopping just above the hem of her dress. The room spun off its axis.
“You drive like gravity’s just a suggestion.”
“And you kiss like the world is going to end after your mouth leaves mine.” He feathered his lips down her jawline. “Give me tonight. Just one night to prove we fit.”
The music reached its crescendo and they continued to sway. The rest of her, though? That went absolutely still. Rooted to the spot by the gravity of his voice and the fire in his touch.
“I’m scared,” she breathed.
He dipped her with deliberate grace, slow and sure.
His words broke through the low hush, just as the violins rose. “So am I. But I’m still here.”
His words hit hard. “That’s not fair.”
“Right back at you, darlin’. That dress should be illegal. Now, let’s go home so I can tear it off.”