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I don't know if it's the sun breaking through the clouds or the breeze in my hair or the fact that I'm so close to everything I want that I can taste it. But I take Ben's face in my hands, his clean-shaven jaw at odds with his wild eyes, and whisper, "You’re full ofshit."
His smirk has me tingling—everywhere. "You loveit."
“Gorgeous.”
I barely hear thephotographer.
I want to tug him down to me. To brush my lips over his. To pretend this beautiful place is for us and usalone.
“Now that’s how you do a photoshoot.”
Richard's voice has Ben looking up. I reluctantly follow hisgaze.
We exchange pleasantries before I watch the photographer show the couple some of our poses. I’m hyperaware of Ben's presence at my side the entire time as Ben addresses Richard. "I appreciate you extending theinvitation."
"Not at all. It's a pleasure to have you here. Your reputation precedes you. You'll be running the East Coast venture scene in notime."
Ben pulls me closer. "It's her you're lucky to have. I’ve seen a lot of bootstrapped companies in Manhattan, more entrepreneurs than I can count.” His eyes shine with warmth, with pride. “She’s one in amillion.”
If there’s a response to that other than melting, I have no idea what itis.
When Richard departs with the couple and the photographer, I turn back toBen.
“How’d I do?” hemurmurs.
Before he can react, I press up on my toes and slide my lips over his. He’s warm and firm, his mouth parting in surprise. He lets me in, from shock or something else. When I pull back, his eyes are darker than they were a momentago.
“You’re wrong,” Imurmur.
His voice is a rasp, his heart thudding beneath my hand. “Aboutwhat?”
“Sometimes love sticks around after thepictures.”
13
“You look troubled.”One of the bride’s friends offers a smile as I look up from my seat on the front porch where I’m poring over market data andprospectuses.
Dinner was in an intimate private dining room of the hotel with the family and a dozen or so guests. Richard and Aiden drew me into talks about technology and the future of retail, but I kept looking at Daisy. Studying her profile across the table, wondering what she was talking about in her own quiet conversation while I was part ofanother.
After dinner, she begged off of drinks, citing the need to work. “Do you want to come up with me? My work won’t take that long, and I can set up the Xbox for after,” sheasked.
The air outside in the hall had felt heavy, which made no sense given the cool summerevening.
“I’ll be up in a bit. I’ll have a scotch on the porchfirst.”
She looked disappointed, but it was replaced with a smile so fast I might have imagined it. “Sure.” Her voice lowered, her gaze flicking past me toward the other guests lingering and laughing. “We should decide what to do about sleepingarrangements.”
“You can have thebed.”
“The couch isn’t a pullout. Your feet will dangle off theend.”
“I’ve slept in worseplaces.”
“In college. You’re used to five star. You came all the way here for me. I’m not going to make you slum it. We can share thebed.”
Now, I’ve been on the porch for two hours and there’s no other answer but that I’m avoiding my bestfriend.
“Can I help you forget whatever’s on your mind?” the woman, whose name I’ve forgotten,presses.
