Page 62 of One Midnight Kiss

I sighed, already feeling the tension creeping up my neck. “I was going to call you, I swear. It all just happened so fast, and it’s complicated.”

“Relax, Natalia. I know it’s not real.”

“You know?” I felt my face heat up. How did she know? Was I that transparent?

She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve known you for a decade. I can smell a sham engagement a mile away. It’s fine. It’s not going to kill you, and it’s not going to kill him either. This will blow over once his launch is done, and then you two can call it quits. Unless…”

I narrowed my eyes. “Unless what?”

“Unless you’re catching feelings,” she sang, winking at me like we were still in college.

“Christa, stop it,” I snapped, a little sharper than I intended. “We’re colleagues.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but her knowing smile said it all. “Whatever you say.”

We moved to the dining room, where the smell of yams and spices filled the air. It was all I could do to keep from glancing outside at Fox. I needed to get it together. We’d slept together, sure, but that didn’t mean anything. Except that I wanted it to mean something, and that was the problem.

I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him. I was supposed to be thinking about the man I met in Paris, the one who’d made me feel like I was floating. But lately, when I tried to picture him, it wasn’t his face I saw. It was Fox’s.

The sound of the back door opening snapped me out of my thoughts. Wilder came in, carrying the turkey, and Fox followed behind, his eyes flicking over to me before he looked away again.

“Wilder, the turkey smells amazing,” I said.

“Of course it does,” he said with a grin. “I’m a master of the smoker.”

Dinner started out light enough. We talked about the dogs, the weather, and the various dishes. It was all very safe territory.

“So, Natalia,” Christa said, feigning innocence as she spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate. “How’s it going with the HomeTech project? You must be almost done, right?”

I cleared my throat, ready to give a standard response. “Yes, with Hanna rolling out to the public, we’re just about wrapped up⁠—”

“Not quite,” Fox interrupted, his tone casual but his words surprising me. “Williamson & Rodgers will continue to handle our marketing and advertising through the next year.”

I stared at him. We had not discussed that. At all.

He met my eyes for a brief second before turning back to his plate. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. What was he doing?

“That’s amazing news,” Christa chimed in, oblivious—or pretending to be. “You two must make a great team.”

I forced a smile and held up the wine bottle. “More wine, anyone?”

“None for me, thanks,” Christa said, pushing her glass away.

“But I got your favorite,” I said. “You love this one.”

She hesitated, then gave me a small, tight smile. “We just started another round of IVF. I’m not drinking for the foreseeable future.”

“What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I felt blindsided, and from the look on Christa’s face, she hadn’t planned on telling me.

Wilder, oblivious as ever, grinned. “Third time’s the charm, right?”

My stomach twisted. Christa hadn’t told me. She’d gone through this twice already without telling me? And now, I was learning about it at the dinner table like a casual piece of gossip.

Christa must have seen the hurt on my face. “We wouldn’t have been able to do this without Fox’s help, honestly.”

I whipped my head toward him, stunned. “What? How are you involved? Not as a donor!”

Fox’s expression faltered, and for a split second, he looked like he regretted the whole conversation. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. “No, of course not. I didn’t realize you didn’t know,” he said quietly.