Chapter 12
CLEO
The in-home chef had prepared an extraordinary meal. Multiple courses of food that were made to look like mini pieces of art. Every course had been paired with a wine that I didn’t even want to know how much each bottle cost.
I took a seat at the long dinner table, smiled at the right moments, and made the right appreciative sounds when a new course appeared. Approximately zero percent of my attention was on any of it. My head was still upstairs. In that room. With that kiss. With him.
Cash Bancroft.
I kissed Cash Bancroft.
I reached for my water glass and tried to organize my thoughts into something resembling order.
Cash had been clear. Businesslike, even, which was very on-brand for him.
He needed someone with my skills on standby in case his client required a rebrand.
Two weeks maximum. Light schedule so I could enjoy the city.
He’d pay me well. He’d make it worth my while.
Perfectly reasonable. Professionally framed. Completely logical. Except for the part where his hands had been in my hair and I’d forgotten my own name.
I touched my bottom lip without meaning to and then immediately dropped my hand back into my lap. My lips still tingled. Hell, it wasn’t just my lips. My entire body tingled. It felt like I had been sucking on a live wire.
There was no reason to say no to his offer.
That was the maddening part. The trip made sense on paper.
Rome. Paid work. A reason to step outside my own life for two weeks and breathe different air and think different thoughts.
A chance to work on something that wasn’t for Melody, which Cash himself had pointed out I needed. He wasn’t wrong.
The only argument against it was sitting eight feet away from me at the dinner table, looking unfairly composed for a man who’d been kissing me breathless twenty minutes ago.
What if it turned into something wonderful?
I moved food around my plate and tried to erase the idea of me and him having a chance.
But it had already made itself comfortable.
Melody’s love story had blindsided her completely.
She hadn’t seen Austin coming. Hadn’t planned for him or strategized around him or worked him into her life goals.
He’d just happened, and everything had rearranged itself around that fact.
Now she was pregnant and getting married on a beach in four weeks and glowing like a human nightlight.
What if something like that was trying to happen to me? What if I kept saying no to it because it wasn’t convenient or logical or because the man in question was Lurch himself?
Austin was nothing like Lurch. He smiled and knew how to have fun, which was actually how he wound up with Melody. Cash was the exact opposite of Austin. I could not imagine myself enjoying spending time with someone that had a permanent scowl.
I took a long sip of water and told myself to get it together.
“This sea bass is unreal,” Melody said from across the table. “I want to put it in my pocket and save it for tomorrow.”
“Please don’t,” Austin said. “We’ll get you more sea bass. We don’t need to hoard it.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one eating for two.”
I smiled at them, and for once the warmth wasn’t something I had to manufacture. They were ridiculous and easy and completely in love. Even with everything churning around underneath my ribs, watching them still managed to make the world feel like a slightly better place.
I glanced at Cash without meaning to. He was already looking at me. He dropped his gaze back to his plate immediately. I did the same.
The courses kept coming. I kept eating. I kept not tasting any of it.
“I wish we could stay for another week,” Melody said. “I love hanging out with you guys.”
“We have to get home,” Sylvie said. “But we should definitely plan another trip out here. It was a lot of fun. I love the ocean.”
“I’m headed back to the city tomorrow,” Finn said.
“Los Angeles?” Cash asked.
“New York. A quick stopover.” He winked to indicate stopover was a code word. “I met this chick in Ibiza. Man!”
Kent snorted. “Of course.”
“Legs. That’s all I’m going to say. Just legs.”
“Please say more than that,” Austin said. “Or significantly less. Pick one.”
Finn flashed a grin at Cash. “If you saw her, you’d adjust your entire Rome schedule to make something work. That’s the level we’re talking about.”
He winked at Cash, and Cash made a face that successfully communicated everything he thought about that level of information sharing at a dinner table.
I looked down at my plate. That electricity that had been zinging through me turned in a full-on lightning bolt that I wanted to direct at Finn for even suggesting Cash hook up with another woman.
I refused to call it jealousy because I had absolutely no claim on Cash Bancroft.
I had no business feeling anything about women with legs for days.
My cheeks burned.
I was so annoyed at myself I could have screamed. I have no right to be jealous. He’s not mine. One kiss did not commit us to one another.
And honestly, would Cash ever pick me over a woman with legs to her ears? I was sure he dated supermodels and women with a single-digit size.
I hated that thought the moment I had it.
Hated the insecurity that had produced it.
This weekend had done something to me. It opened up something I usually kept sealed tight.
All of it had been working on me like water on rock.
It was eroding the self-confidence I’d always had.
I didn’t get jealous or envious. I loved who I was. I loved being me.
But dammit. How can I not wonder what it might be like to be someone a little different?
I straightened my spine, reached for my wine glass, and reminded myself of a few important facts. I was Cleo Quinn. I had a purple streak in my hair that I’d chosen deliberately and loudly and without apology. I was a social media genius.
There was nobody like me. That was not arrogance. That was just the truth.
Some leggy woman in LA was not my competition because I was not competing. I was in a category entirely my own, and anyone who didn’t see that could honestly fuck all the way off.
I lifted my chin and finished my wine. Good food. Good wine. Great company. These were the things that mattered.
After dinner we migrated back to the beach, where someone had started a fire.
Kent and Sylvie settled in with the baby monitor, Tiana already asleep upstairs, but they didn’t last long.
Sylvie’s eyes were drooping within the hour, and Kent had her up and inside within minutes.
A good man taking care of the mother of his child.
That left five of us. Finn showed no signs of slowing down.
“Okay, baby names,” he announced, cracking another beer. “This is an important conversation. Have we had this conversation?”
“We’re not naming the baby after a car,” Austin said, which suggested this wasn’t actually the first time.
“I haven’t said a car yet.”
Austin shrugged. “You’re about to.”
“I’m going to say Spork first.” Finn held up a hand. “Hear me out. Spork. Gender neutral. Completely unique.”
“It’s cutlery,” I said with a look of pure disgust.
Finn shook his head. “I’m sure there’s another meaning for it.”
“It sounds like Spok,” Melody said.
“What about Tuna?” Finn offered. “That’s a name that commands a room.”
“That’s a name that gets a child thrown in a locker,” Melody said.
“Kids are resilient. Maserati,” Finn declared. “Final answer. Maserati Bancroft.”
Austin opened his mouth.
“Actually,” Kent’s voice drifted out from the patio door. “Maserati Bancroft doesn’t sound half bad.” He disappeared back inside before anyone could respond.
We all looked at each other.
“It really doesn’t,” Finn said solemnly.
“We’re not naming our kid Maserati” Austin said with a sigh.
Finn finished his beer and stood up, stretching. “I’m out. Early flight. Goddess to prepare for.” He pointed finger guns at Austin and Melody. “Think about Maserati. Sleep on it.” He pointed at Cash. “Don’t be boring in Rome.” He pointed at me. “You. Still undecided on you.”
“Likewise,” I said pleasantly.
He grinned and headed up to the house.
Austin and Melody followed shortly after, Melody yawning into his shoulder, Austin’s arm around her waist. “Cash, can you get the fire?” Austin asked over his shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“Night, Cleo.” Melody blew me a kiss.
“Night.” I watched them go.
And then it was just Cash and me and the low-burning fire. He looked at me across the flames. I could see him debating what to say.
I beat him to it. “Rome is a bad idea.”
He didn’t even blink. “It’s a good idea.”
“I just said it’s not.”
“And I respectfully disagree.” He leaned forward, forearms on his knees.
“You need a break from this. Stop being Melody’s person for ten seconds so you can figure out what you need.
Rome gives you that. Two weeks to where you don’t have to think about what light Melody looks best in.
Just look around and soak it in instead of looking at it through a camera lens. ”
“You’re not going to let this go.”
“You’ll come home with a clear head and a fresh perspective. You said yourself you want to start something of your own. This is a chance to work toward that without feeling like you’re betraying anyone to do it.”
“And you,” I said. “What do you get?”
“A signed contract and less weight on my shoulders.” He was quiet for a second, like he was debating if there was anything else. “That’s all.”
I stared at him and tried to decide what game he was playing. He stood up, crossed to the log pile, and tossed another piece of wood onto the fire. The flames caught immediately, flaring up bright and warm between us.
It was an invitation. The silent kind. Another log meant he was planning on staying out for a bit longer and was asking me to stay as well. I stayed.
He looked at the empty chair beside him. “No smoke on this side.”
I stood and moved to sit beside him. “You’re not going to just let me say no, are you,” I said. Not really a question.
“I’ll let you say no,” he said. “I just don’t think you want to.”
I hated that he was right. I hated how well he’d read me in the span of forty-eight hours.
He reached over and caught my hand. He tugged gently. I looked at him.
“Come here,” he said quietly.
I let him pull me up and into his lap like Melody had been with Austin. It felt so natural. His arms settled around my waist. I could feel the solid reality of him beneath me.
“Rome can be a little fun, too,” he said, his voice low near my ear. “If we want it to be.”
I turned my head to look at him, which was a mistake, because his face was right there and his eyes were doing the thing they did where they looked at me like I was something he wanted to devour.
“That’s a very dangerous thing to say to me,” I told him.
“I know.”
He kissed me. Not the desperate, surprised collision from earlier. This was slower. More deliberate. His hand came up to my jaw. Gently opening my mouth to his invasion, I kissed him back and felt the last reasonable objection I had dissolve completely.
My hands moved up his strong arms and then into his hair. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer until I was turned fully toward him. The fire was warm at my back and he was warm everywhere else.
I lost myself in the sensation of his mouth on mine. The man can kiss. If he ever loses his career, he can easily make billions selling his kisses.
My fingers tightened in his hair, and he made a low sound in his chest that I felt more than heard. It was primal and raw and it had me rubbing against him.
His hand slid from my jaw down to my neck, his thumb tracing the line of my throat. I could feel my pulse hammering against his palm, giving away exactly how much he was affecting me. There was no hiding it now. No pretending this was casual or meaningless or anything other than what it was.
I was completely undone by Cash Bancroft.
His other hand moved to my hip, gripping me through the fabric of my joggers. His fingers dug in slightly. I arched into him without meaning to. I needed to be closer. I needed there to be less space between us and fewer clothes and more of whatever this was.
I’m lost. Kissing Cash is my new favorite thing in the world.