CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
We headed back to the kitchen to watch what Henri was doing. Mia was itching to further inspect the play area, so she skipped into the great room while the three of us chatted near the kitchen island as Henri cooked.
"I’m scared to ask what you’re cooking,” Zoey said, pushing onto her tiptoes to peer past Henri.
“Scared?” he asked with a laugh.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s going to change my life and I’m not ready for that,” Zoey went on, wafting some of the rich scents toward her face.
“That’s pretty much the number one thing you need to be worried about in these parts,” Clara cracked. “Things can never be the same after you’ve met Nash Nightingale.”
Her words warmed my heart. I scooped her hand into my own and brought it to my lips. “You’re just saying that because you’re my girlfriend.”
“Don’t act like you don’t know how life-changing you can be,” Clara chided me.
I tilted my head, gazing deep into her eyes. “Only if you recognize how life-changing you can be.”
That earned me a genuine blush. “Nash…”
“Since day one.” I kissed her hand again as Clara fought a smile.
Zoey fanned herself. “Okay, you two are gonna need to stop. Between these smells and this level of PDA…I either need more wine or I’m gonna have to leave.”
I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. “That sounds like more wine then. Because this night is just getting started.”
Once I refilled our glasses, I focused on getting Zoey to open up and share details about her life while Henri finished cooking dinner.
Mia wandered over occasionally to show her mom new things she’d discovered in the play area.
The sight of her skipping back and forth was honestly cuter than I’d counted on.
When dinner was almost ready, Zoey excused herself to use the restroom. I reminded her how to get there, and while she was gone, Clara and I drifted to the big window overlooking the city.
“Zoey is great.” My gaze swept over Clara from head to toe. “But not nearly as great as you look in this dress. Have I told you that yet?”
Clara laughed into her palm, her eyes twinkling as she looked up at me. “You may have. But it doesn’t hurt to hear it again. Who picked this out?”
Alcohol buzzed through me. I couldn’t keep myself from slipping a hand over that delicious groove where her hip met her waist. “I did.”
Her brows shot upward. “Really?”
“Yes. Is that surprising?”
“I just assumed your assistant did all of that,” she admitted. “I never imagined you spent any time on picking out dresses.”
“Marina handles a lot,” I said. “But not the most important things.” When she got that bashful look on her face again, I added, “I’m serious. I wanted to see you in different cuts and colors so I’ve been having a great time dressing you.”
Clara bit her lip, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you…actually enjoy it? I don’t know—I’ve never enjoyed dressing myself. Especially since I had a baby.”
“We’ve probably had access to very different levels of clothing,” I reminded her, tipping her chin up with my thumb and forefinger.
“How expensive they are doesn’t change the shape of what’s beneath the clothes,” she said quietly.
I furrowed my brows. The meaning of her words took a moment to register. “Do you not realize how hot you are?”
She looked at me like I was joking. Which meant she had no idea.
I pulled her closer to me, some alarm bell in the farthest reaches of my rational mind going off, reminding me that I was in the danger zone. Because this was real. This wasn’t a performance. And Clara would realize it, because there was nobody here we were performing for.
Right now, I didn’t care.
“If it was just the two of us in here”—I lowered my mouth to her ear, cinching her body against mine with a quick tug—“I'd show you exactly what this dress does to me. What you do to me.”
Her hazel eyes shone with desire as she tipped her head back to look at me. I dragged my thumb along her throat, smoothing my palm over her exposed chest. She inhaled shakily. I could feel her heart hammering in her chest beneath my palm.
“You don’t have to go so over the top,” she whispered, but I cut her off, pressing my lips to hers in a deep, desperate kiss.
The kiss I’d been dreaming of giving her since Wednesday afternoon at the restaurant.
She whimpered, clutching at my hands cupping the sides of her face as my tongue found hers, slow and thorough.
My cock stiffened immediately, and I was sure she could feel it pressed against her belly. She pulled back suddenly, sucking in a breath. It was only then that I realized she’d responded to the sound of approaching feet.
Mia had run up to us, clutching a barbie doll with wild hair.
“I brush hair!” Mia said gleefully as she thrust the doll toward Clara.
“Oh, honey, how beautiful.” I could hear the strain in Clara’s voice. “Do you have any other dollies to brush?”
Mia scampered back to the play area, and Clara looked guiltily up at me.
“So,” I began, smoothing my hand over the dip in her neck. Clara’s eyes drifted shut and she stiffened slightly.
“Nash, wait.” She stilled my hand with her own, her hazel gaze snapping to find mine. “Let’s pump the brakes. This is…confusing.”
“What’s confusing about how sexy you are?” I murmured.
She dipped her chin. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re…” A sigh escaped her. “Those kisses don’t feel like they’re just for show.”
“There are two adults here who need to be convinced,” I murmured, stepping closer again. I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips. Fuck, I wanted more of those kisses.
“Oh look, the lovebirds are lovebirding.” Zoey’s voice cut through our intimate moment and I looked past Clara to find her best friend re-entering the room.
“It’s hard not to with this one,” I said with a smile, turning Clara and pulling her flat against me, her back pressed to my chest. I dipped down and kissed her cheek. “She’s the only one who turns me into a lovebird.”
Clara giggled, swatting at my arm. Luckily she couldn’t know how hard my own words rang inside my body. It was easy with her. A little too easy. And I only wanted her more every second I spent with her.
I just couldn’t determine if that was something to worry about or a sign that everything was going according to plan.
Henri called us over for dinner. We gathered around the long dining table, where he'd set out a spread that looked like it belonged in a Michelin-starred restaurant. We oohed and aahed our way through dinner. Zoey regaled us with hilarious stories from her and Clara’s college days that had Clara blushing and protesting while I couldn’t stop laughing.
My favorite story was the time Clara tried to liberate a ficus from the student union, only to discover the sad-looking thing was plastic.
“Listen, it just needed better light, plastic or not!” Clara said, laughing. “It was so high up there, how could I tell it was fake?”
“Mostly from the inch-thick layer of dust on the leaves, but that’s okay, babe,” Zoey said, patting her friend’s hand. “I won’t let anybody know the plant guru once mistook a plastic ficus for the real thing. That’s going to the grave with me.”
“This is why you’re my best friend,” Clara said, pointing her fork at Zoey.
As we moved on to Henri's chocolate soufflé—which had Zoey and Clara literally moaning with pleasure—the conversation turned to my work. Zoey had about a million questions about what Archer and I did and why. It was oddly refreshing to summarize my work, explaining the community-focused development projects Archer and I championed, as a way to use our wealth for good. I didn’t get into the drama with Sebastian Cross, and I stayed far, far away from the permit debacle that had been ruining Archer’s and my lives the past three days.
I’d struck a perfect balance of relaxed hosting, easygoing convo, and wine buzz, and I didn’t want to capsize it.
Life felt good tonight. Really good. Despite the stress, Clara had yet again grounded me when I least expected it. Henri cleared our dessert plates and we made our way back to the great room.
“I could look at this view forever,” Zoey said from in front of the large window overlooking the city. Mia returned to the play area, and I led Clara to the low couches in the middle.
“I’ve never gotten tired of it,” I admitted.
Suddenly the intercom buzzed—someone requesting access to the penthouse elevator. “Is someone here?” Clara asked.
I checked my phone, seeing a text from Archer that I’d missed. “It’s my brother.” I crossed to the intercom panel in the foyer and hit the button to grant him access.
Zoey’s eyes brightened. “I hear he’s single.”
I laughed as I stood up, heading for the main door. “He is. But don’t get your hopes up.”
“Oh. He’s gay?” Zoey sounded thoroughly disappointed.
“No, not gay. Just…unavailable. I don’t know how else to put it.
” Truth was, Archer was hung up on something, and I had a good idea what it was.
However, I tried not to meddle in his love life because I didn’t want him meddling in mine.
When I pulled open the door, I realized Archer wasn’t alone.
He walked in with Axel Fairchild and Cora Margulis.
“It’s not too late for us, is it?” Archer asked with his typical winsome smile. His gaze coasted over my guests and the wattage on his smile increased. “Hey, guys.”
Zoey’s eyes had gone wide with shock, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the excitement of seeing Archer in person or maybe because she recognized our guests. It wouldn't be surprising—Axel Fairchild and his wife Cora were Manhattan fixtures, the kind of power couple who regularly made Page Six.
“You’re right on time, Brother Nightingale,” I told Archer before shaking Axel’s hand and giving Cora a quick hug. “I didn’t realize you two would be joining tonight.”