“What kind of investment?”
“Two of my buddies from college—Sawyer and Dean—they had this brilliant idea for real-time routes for traffic, shipping, emergency vehicles. All of it. I had money from my grandpa passing away and put it all into their idea.”
“Wow. They’re lucky to have a friend like you.”
He laughs. “It’s the other way around. They’re very generous with the wealth. They haven’t asked to buy me out. They like that we have all benefited from their company.”
“All?” I ask curiously.
“A couple of our other college buddies invested as well.”
I’m impressed. Someone who is still close with his college friends. It says a lot about him.
“And your family?” I ask gently. “Parents? Siblings?”
His expression tightens, just enough that I notice.
“I’m not close with my parents,” he says after a brief pause. “I have two sisters.”
He stops there. I sense that he doesn’t want to talk about it any further, so I don’t push.
We finish dinner, talking about lighter subjects, like favorite books and movies. He tells me all about the traveling he’s done while I listen, completely envious of all the places he’s been.
Later, we move to a quiet seating area near the windows, city lights extending endlessly beneath us. Wine glasses in hand. Knees angled toward each other. The space between us feels charged, alive.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell him. “It was surprisingly delicious.”
He chuckles. “You’re welcome. You doubted my skills?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear and smile. “I have to admit, with all the time you spend at the hospital and this”—I wave my arms in the air at his penthouse— “I figured cooking wasn’t something you needed to worry about.”
He pulls at the back of his neck. “I don’t want to eat takeout every night, and I don’t like the idea of giving a stranger a key to my place.”
I nod. “I can understand that.”
After our glasses of wine, the conversation drifts.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask as his eyes turn dark and hold mine intently.
He massages his chin and leans back in his chair. His large body takes up so much more space. “I was thinking of our call the other evening.”
“I’ve never done anything like that before,” I admit softly, heat creeping into my cheeks. “It was … crazy. And somehow the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”
His gaze darkens. Drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
“Good,” he says quietly.
The words are heavy. The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s thick. Electric.
Every part of me is suddenly aware of how close he is. How easily he could reach out. How desperately my body wants him to.
And I know that if he touches me again, neither of us is walking away. Not after what I watched the other night. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, eyes remaining on me as he rests his head on his hand, elbow on the back of the chair.
I roll my eyes. “Let’s not pretend you don’t know what images I have in my head.”
He looks amused by my answer. “After we got off the phone …” He stops, like it’s nearly painful for him to remain seated. “What did you do?”