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“Yeah.” I lift up my purse to prove my point.
“You don’t speak much. It’s . . . unusual.”
We arrive at the Italian restaurant, where Damon tells the hostess his name.
“Unusual?” I ask him before the hostess grabs both coats I’m wearing, giving my boss a well-deserved eyeful.
“Katherine talked a lot more,” he says simply, both of us following another hostess to our table.
“Gentlemen, meet Ms. Ackerman.” He introduces me as I give a few handshakes. He pulls out a chair for me and I sit, grateful to give my legs a break. I can’t remember the last time I felt so much.
At least not the last time I felt something that wasn’t pain.
I don’t waste a second opening the iPad along with the Notes app, writing a few lines throughout lunch.
Damon throws quick-witted responses their way, and I can tell by the end of this meeting that they’re more satisfied to do business with him for this project as well.
He's good at what he does.
When I took this job, I hadn’t expected to find a possible mentor in my boss but perhaps I will. The man clearly knows his stuff: business, laws, technicalities, anything scientific and environmental, and he seems to be onboard.
Even better, he doesn’t throw his morals down people’s throats.
“It was really, really nice to meet you.” One of the men takes my hand in his for a beat too long. I’m not keen on his lingering eyes and from the look on Damon’s face, neither is he.
Damon places his hand on the small of my back, my mind reeling from the contact. It’s possessive, and my body warms at the gesture. I can’t move; my heart is beating as if I’ve twisted the throttle of a motorcycle.
Until I remember that I don’t have one anymore.
The thought is enough to bring me back to earth and suddenly I’m walking ahead of Damon, no longer feeling his hand hovering at my back.
I’m surrounded by men I can’t read. It’s frustrating.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as we leave the elevator leading to the underground parking lot.
I stare at him, bewildered. How can he possiblyknowsomething is wrong when I didn’t even utter a single word? More manners show up when he opens his car door for me.
I get to breathe properly for the last few seconds before he climbs into the driver seat and turns to look at me.
Damon empowers.
Not only with his stare, but with his energy, with this senseof calmness he possesses. I won’t even start with his beauty or the way hesmells.
Harvey, Harvey, Harvey.
I close my eyes and think of the day we met. Of the light that shone through his blue eyes, piercing a hole into my heart from that day on. Today the hole is still there but for very different reasons—none of them good.
“Do I have to ask again?”
Clearly.
I bite my tongue. Gia’s right, I need a release. I need to start walking again to take charge of the change that is happening in my life. I don’t know where I’m heading, I feel so lost.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You shut down after we left. Did someone make you uncomfortable—did I?”
His body is angled toward mine now, though I’m looking straight ahead.
