Page 43 of Never To Be Mine

HOLLIS

Istood in the lobby the next morning and waited. Would she be late? Early? Definitely early.

The elevator dinged, and I looked up.

Holy fuck.

Juno stepped out wearing a green dress that hugged every curve in a way that made my mouth go dry. The color did something to her eyes that I couldn’t quite name but definitely couldn’t look away from. Her hair was down again, falling in those soft waves I’d been trying not to think about.

And the heels? Jesus Christ, the heels. I would let her put those pointy heels against my chest any day of the week.

She was dressed to kill.

I realized I’d been staring and quickly looked down at my phone, pretending I’d been checking something important.

“Morning,” she said as she approached.

“Morning.” I slipped my phone into my pocket and gestured toward the door. “Ready?”

“Are you?”

“You’ll see.” I wore a navy suit, crisp white shirt, no tie. Professional but not stuffy. The kind of outfit that said I took this seriously. But standing next to her, I felt like I should have tried harder.

We stepped outside, and I flagged down a cab. I opened the door for her and tried not to watch as she slid into the backseat, that dress riding up just slightly. I followed her in and gave the driver the address.

Juno stared out the window, her hands folded in her lap. I found myself studying her profile, watching the way she bit her lower lip. Damn. The woman was like a painting I couldn’t look away from. A work of art in motion.

Shame she was so prickly.

“Stop staring at me,” she said without looking over.

“I’m not staring.”

“You are.” She turned to face me, one eyebrow raised. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No. You look—” I caught myself. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” She went back to looking out the window, but I could have sworn I saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

The PriceCo building was all glass and steel on the outside. We walked through the revolving doors into a lobby that screamed money and power. We walked to the elevator bank. When we stepped inside, I noticed she had worn a different perfume. It was fruity. Strawberries.

Fuck. I suddenly had a craving for strawberries. And champagne.

She stared straight ahead. The doors opened and I gestured for her to step out first.

The receptionist greeted us with a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”

“Hollis Blackwell and Juno Young,” I said. “We have a meeting.”

“Of course. Please have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

“Water please,” Juno said.

“Same,” I added.

We settled into the sleek chairs in the waiting area. I pulled out my phone to check my notes one more time, but I’d already memorized every word. The presentation was solid. The numbers were good. The product was fucking amazing.

I just needed to sell it.