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I gulp. “It is?”
“Since you stopped being an asshole, yeah.”
I snort a laugh.
“This is not news to you.”
She smiles again. “The point is, you come from passionate people, and that’s a good thing. It means that I know what you want. I don’t have to guess with you, and that’s a nice change.”
Part of me hopes she can tell what I want, but the other part of me worries she’ll think it’s absurd. Must change the topic. “Other men leave you guessing?”
“Oh, definitely. They’re all cowards. They don’t tell you a thing upfront, like every interaction with them is a merger, and they’re trying to get the best deal they can. It’s exhausting.”
Better to ask than to guess wrong. “So, what is it you think I want?”
She chuckles and whispers, “The account.”
In that last three minutes, I’d completely forgotten about the account. She was the only thing on my mind. It was a nice three minutes.
“Right. The account.” I twirl her, then bring her close. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves, right?”
She smiles and comes close again. “Right.”
I don’t blame her for keeping her eyes on the prize. In her case, it’s a literal prize. But her words bruise me. I didn’t want to be brought back to reality. Not here. Not now. Maybe part of me wished she was in the fantasy with me, wishing this was real for her own reasons. Guess it doesn’t matter. I know what’s on her mind.
The money. Not that I can blame her for that.
“Autumn Leaves” comes on, another slow version. “I’ve always loved this song.”
She looks up at me. “Really?”
“I’m a sucker for a melancholic love song.”
“You?”
“And what did you imagine I liked?”
She gives a little shrug with a smirk. “Out of this kind of music? Mack the Knife.”
I laugh hard. Can’t help it. “A song about a killer for hire? I’m flattered.”
She beams up at me. “Or maybe Hard-Hearted Hannah.”
“Another murderer?” I spin her and hold her tight and still, staring into her eyes. Her cheeks flush and her eyes fall to my lips. I murmur, “What must you think of me?” Then, I start us up again. Slower this time.
“I was thinking you’d like songs about people who know what they want and go for it.”
“Hmm.” I wonder if that’s the real reason. “Suppose that’s not so bad, then.” Feeling her soft body against mine, a rush of heat shoots low. I’d been holding it back this whole time, but it’s becoming impossible. Knowing what she thinks of me—and that it’s not all bad—appears to be an aphrodisiac, and I struggle to keep things PG around my family for the moment.
“Never knew you were a secret romantic, Anderson.” The way she says my name is too much. Like she’s savoring every syllable.
“The Nearness of You,” begins, and I’m sunk. Why is the band playing so many slow songs in a row? Doesn’t matter. I’m struggling not to fall into the music. If I do, things between me and June are going to be much more complicated.
I swallow, trying to ignore the way my heart warms when she stays so close to me. Feels like I’m on a knife’s edge, and I’m about to get cut. “We all have our secrets, don’t we, June?”
“I guess we do.”
As the band plays on, I hardly hear the music. Only the steady drumming in my chest. She and I fall silent, swaying to the rhythm. I don’t know when the song ended or if anyone else is in the room. All I see is June. The way her lips call to me. The unsure look in her eyes as they keep glancing at my mouth. I am drawn to her—I don’t care if this is real or not. The desire is plain on her perfect face. Just as I tip my head down for a kiss, the room breaks out into applause.
