“About San Francisco,” I start. “I want us to go together. I want you to stay with me, spend the whole time with me when you’re not working. But, if that’s not what you want, you don’t have to do it because of what happened today.”
She nods slowly. “What happens after it’s over? When we come back?”
I don’t know. I have made no plans beyond that one week, but when I recall the sight of her spread out on my desk, I have a feeling a week will not be nearly enough.
“What do you want to happen?”
My question makes her pause, as if it’s not what she was expecting. “I don’t want a relationship,” she says firmly. “This is just sex. I don’t want to pretend it’s anything more.”
I’ve never wanted a romantic relationship either, so I don’t expect the words to sting so much, but they do.
“I also want exclusivity,” she continues. “For as long as it lasts.”
I haven’t even thought about another woman since I touched her. I shrug. “Not a problem.”
She looks at me, and there’s that vulnerability in her eyes again. I’m still smarting from being rejected for a relationship, which is comical, but now I want to ask her if everything is all right.
Her next words are decisive. “And it only lasts as long as we’re in San Francisco.”
“A week.” I can almost hear a door close on something ephemeral I haven’t quite grasped yet. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” The wide neck of my sweater has fallen over one of her shoulders, exposing the smooth curve. I have an incredible urge to place my lips on her skin, to kiss her with tenderness and extreme care, to love, and not to bruise. I put a damper on those thoughts and glance at my watch. “Why don’t you go up and change? I’ll take you back to your office.”
She shakes her head. “It’s almost five. I’m done for the day.”
She doesn’t make any move to leave the car, and I raise an eyebrow. “So, are you going to invite me up?”
She smirks. “Don’t push your luck. I don’t even like you.”
For now. She will like me. I’ll make sure of that.
“But you will.” I flash her a grin and she rolls her eyes before climbing out of the car. “Tony will let you know the travel details,” I tell her, starting the engine. “See you soon.”
I pull off the curb. In the rearview mirror, I see her walk into the building. I want to feel more confident about what the next few days hold for us, but I know she’s going to surprise me. Nothing about being with her will be as uncomplicated as it should be.
Chapter 8
I spend most of the next day on the phone with my team in San Francisco. The refurbishment is progressing fast, but not fast enough for me. I want everything to be impeccable before the grand opening.
I force thoughts of Rachel from my mind as I work. I’ve left the travel arrangements to Tony. Thinking about her and the things I’d love to do to her once I get her alone in a suite with me…well, that’s one way to make sure I don’t get any work done.
As evening comes, however, I can barely keep the thoughts at bay. Idly, I wonder if she has received the replacement blouse and lingerie I sent to her apartment. I picked them out myself, with help from a bemused salesperson at an exclusive department store.
Does she like them?
Will she let me tear the lingerie off her body and trail my lips over every inch of her skin?
Tony pokes his head through my door. “The plane is ready whenever you are,” he tells me
I nod my acknowledgment, and he leaves. Joe is already on his way to pick Rachel up, and I don’t want to keep her waiting. I hit the button on my desk and Tony returns.
“I’m ready to leave now.”
Tony follows me down to the entrance, where a car is waiting for me. His voice is a constant stream of reminders about notes and emails and meetings. There’s no need—he’ll join me in San Francisco tomorrow—but I’m sure he’s OCDing a little about not coming with me now.
My plane is a sleek gray jet with Swanson Court International painted along the sides. The interior is custom designed with soft carpets and plush leather seating, although the convenience of seamless travel is much more important to me than the comfort.