9. Ivy #2
“Of course.” I grin and lower my voice. “Don’t tell the organizers—I was a cat person.”
“A cat person?” He mock whispers, mirth lighting his gaze. “I’m shocked, Ivy.”
“I know.” I pretend to be scandalized and place my hand over my heart. “And yet here I am, supporting the welfare of the enemy.”
“You’re thoroughly wicked.” Callum’s voice is a low husk, and for a moment, just one beat, I wonder if he’s imagining the same things I am—the same wicked things we did to each other only two weeks ago.
But he blinks and his expression is innocent when he says, “And you weren’t ever tempted to bring a puppy into your life?”
“Oh, I was tempted,” I say. “But with our lifestyle, the hours our parents worked, a dog simply wasn’t the best choice—even though Sage and I used to beg for one.
” A memory teases the edges of my mind, and I laugh.
“One night, we put on a show in the kitchen where we demonstrated just what responsible pet owners we would be. Mom showed me the video—a whole hour of singing and dancing and acting in our kitchen.”
“Saying no to you would have been near impossible,” he says, but he’s not laughing anymore, and somehow, I feel those words as if he spoke them to my soul.
He signals to a waiter passing by and selects a glass of champagne from the tray, then hands it to me.
“No Long-Distance Lovers on the menu?” I ask, stepping closer, just to make sure he can hear me—not to catch a whiff of the spice of his cologne, or to feel his warmth on the exposed skin of my back.
He leans down and the heat of his breath fans over my ear and sends electricity zapping through my body. “Not this time . . .”
Want sizzles my veins. His hand barely skates over the lower part of my back, but I feel the graze of his fingers as if they bruised me everywhere.
“Have I told you how damn sexy you look tonight?”
“No,” I reply, my eyes on the people on the dance floor, because if I meet the heat in his gaze I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him back to my suite.
“This red dress is . . .” he rasps. “It’s phenomenal. Just like the woman inside of it.”
Goose bumps skitter across my skin.
A few feet away from us, a model-esque woman leans into her partner, whispering something in her ear. She glances our way, then looks back at her like they have all night planned together, a night of heat and seduction and sin.
“I wonder if they’re talking about us,” I whisper to the man by my side. “I wonder if they’re looking at us and wondering who we are, what our relationship is.”
A growl hums in his throat. “Ivy . . .”
“Ivy! So nice to see you here.” The moment snaps as Marjorie, one of our investors, walks over, glass of champagne in hand. “Fantastic turnout tonight.”
“It is. The organizers have done a great job,” I agree.
“And so have you.” She tuts and wags a French-manicured nail at me. “Don’t pretend you didn’t have a hand in this. Carmel told me you all but waived the room hire for this event.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal, really.”
“It is. In this town, everyone’s out to make a quick dollar.”
“I’m not interested in quick dollars. Sage and I are playing the long game—but we’ll also always have a soft spot for those who need it most.” I gesture to the charity’s logo again, carefully straddling the line between compassionate and driven lest Marjorie think I’m anything less than capable when it comes to managing a brand she has a stake in.
“You’re doing a great job. And I cannot wait for those concerts you’ve organized. Stone?” She places a hand to her chest as if he’s near and dear to her heart. “He’s a talent, that’s for sure. And most definitely easy on the eyes.”
We laugh and end the conversation, but as Callum and I move through the room, his strong, sexy body so close to mine, I feel that couple’s eyes on us again and I can’t help but wonder what it is they’re saying.
I fantasize about the different life I could lead if Callum wasn’t my bodyguard, the best one I’ve ever had, but instead something more.
Perhaps then, that blonde would whisper, Oh, that’s Ivy Carmichael with that gorgeous man who can’t take his eyes off her.
Maybe her lover would whisper back, I bet he worships her body the minute they’re alone.
A shiver skates over my skin. I wish, I wish, I wish.
“Everything all right?” Callum asks, and I spin around to meet his gaze, but in the close confines of this crowded room, his chest is right there and I want to place my hand on it. I need to feel his body. I have to have him just one more time.
But I don’t.
Because if this is how I feel after one simple night together, I can only imagine how much harder a second goodbye would be.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, handing my empty glass to a waiter as he walks past.
“As you wish.” Callum gestures toward the door, and I walk ahead, excusing myself for a quick trip to the ladies’ room on the way.
I rest my hands on the marble sink and look at the woman in the mirror. Get a grip, Ivy , I admonish myself. He’s just one man—he shouldn’t rattle me like this. Not Ivy Carmichael, the hotel heiress. The woman who knows what she wants in business and who isn’t afraid to dream big.
The woman who’s falling for the one man she shouldn’t want.