“If someone had told us fifteen years ago,” my sister says, the sound of a toddler wailing impatiently in the background, “that we would be talking on the phone before seven in the morning, we would—”
“Never have believed them,” I finish. “I know. You used to be so grumpy in the mornings.”
“You weren’t such a peach, either,” Rose says. There’s happiness in her voice, beneath the tiredness. “Imagine how good it was for our relationship to stop fighting over the shower.”
I chuckle and look both ways before jaywalking across an empty side street. New York is glorious this early. Some passersby are heading home from a wild night out, and others are out on their morning coffee runs. The city is alive with people’s ever-clashing lives and routines.
“How’s my favorite niece?” I ask.
“Your only niece is stuffing her face at the moment,” Rose says. “Which is how I got these precious minutes with you in peace. So—”
“I haven’t killed the cat,” I say. “Don’t worry.”
She laughs. “I knew you wouldn’t. You’re great with animals. Is he a keeper?”
“Well, he sure is keeping my apartment wonderfully mouse-free.”
“You have mice?” she says. “In that fancy place?”
“No, that’s what I just said.”
Rose groans. “It’s too early for your sarcasm.”
“I couldn’t resist.”
“Are you working too much?” she asks. “That was going to be my annoying question, not about the cat, but I’m always interested in updates about Milo, too. I don’t want you overworking yourself.”
“I love my work,” I say. “You know that.”
“Do I ever! But I’m just afraid that it’s become the only thing you love after the divorce.”
“Not true,” I say. “You know I love you, and little Mia. Mom and Dad, and our first family dog, may he rest in peace. I love Grandma and—”
“Yes, yes, you master deflector, but I won’t be distracted off the topic.”
“I play a lot of tennis.”
“Right, so not only are you working yourself to the bone, you’re now exercising yourself to the bone, too.” Rose sighs. “Just… try to find balance, okay? Make some friends at work, or join a club, or… just do something else.”
“Balance,” I repeat and rummage through my bag for my keycard to Exciteur. “Definitely. That’s really important.”
She sighs again. “You’re still coming home in a few weeks, for Mia’s birthday party, right?”
“Of course, I am.”
“Excellent.” Her voice brightens. “Robbie is invited, too.”
I groan. “Why on earth did you invite my high school boyfriend?”
“Because he and his brother helped us repaint the garage, and I wanted to be nice,” she says. “Also, I want to set you up with him.”
I sit down on the bench opposite Exciteur and reach into my bag for my pumps. Methodically, I unlace my ergonomic walking shoes, one at a time. “You can’t set me up with someone I’ve already dated. That’s not how set-ups work.”
Rose lowers her voice. “Just flirt a bit. Have a nice little fling. Backslide.”
“Backslide?”
“Yes, I think that’s what the kids call hooking up with an ex. I think. Anyway, he’s safe and familiar, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I admit and fasten the clasp to my slingbacks. “I suppose. But—”
“All I’m saying is, don’t close off the possibility of having some fun, or just getting laid. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Rose, I don’t—”
“Be open-minded,” she says. “That’s all.”
“Rose, I think I might be close to sleeping with someone already.”
There’s absolute silence on the other end. Then her voice, no longer hushed. “What?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Start from the beginning,” she demands. “No, scrap that, Mia’s almost finished with her food. Start from the middle. Don’t leave out any of the important stuff, and text me all the unimportant stuff later.”
I laugh and pull out my headphone case. I need to go to work soon, too. “It’s with someone I’m working with.”
“An employee? Oh, I can see where this is going,” she says.
“No, he’s a client.”
“A client,” Rose repeats.
“Yes. He’s not really my type anymore, but… well, I guess that’s not true,” I say. “He’s definitely my type. But after Percy, I can’t date those kind of men anymore.”
“Soph…” she says.
“No, no, he’s not like Percy. They’re night and day, personality-wise. But they have similar backgrounds, if you know what I mean.”
She makes a humming sound like she really does. “And something’s happened between you two?”
“Flirting, and definitely more conversations than are appropriate.”
“Oooh.”
“He also helped me make Percy jealous at a few parties.”
“Yes! I love this guy!”
I chuckle. “Yeah. Also, we sort of made out a couple of days ago. In the shower.”
“Oh my God,” Rose says. “Why am I just finding this out? No, honey, don’t throw that on the floor.”
“I’m not throwing anything,” I say because I can’t resist.
“Please. Mommy just has to talk to Auntie Sophia,” Rose says, voice away from the phone. Then she’s back. “I’m all for it. That’s all I have to say. Absolutely all for it. Hooking up with someone means you’re living a more balanced life.”
I laugh. “Right, well, I’m glad.”
“Will you see him again?”
“Professionally, yes. Privately… I don’t know. He just kinda left after we made out.”
“Oh,” she says. But then her voice brightens. “Then you make the first move. You’re free to live your life however you want to now, Sophia.” Sounds erupt on the other end, suspiciously like plastic hitting a wooden floor. “Darn. I have to go. Text me more details, okay? I’ll badger you if you don’t. See you in a few weeks!”
“Love you,” I say. But Rose has already clicked off to take care of my niece’s high-pitched wailing, who is as adorable as she is demanding.
I tuck my sneakers into my bag and the conversation into the back of my mind. Exciteur and the work I do deserve my attention, and not Isaac or what his hands had done in the shower.
Nor the absolute silence I’ve had from him in the three days since. Not a word, a text, an email, or a call.
There’s a mild humiliation along with the memory, dimming its shine. He had been so controlled, so natural through it all, with the sound of his deep voice murmuring in my ear while he… well. It had been one of the hottest moments of my life. But he hadn’t lost control.
Not that I think Isaac Winter ever truly does. It’s not in his character, and that’s a good thing, but I’m still embarrassed.
Because I had.
That day had been an intense one. I’d been high off the victory, bitter from seeing Percy and Scarlett, delighted over spending time with Isaac, and then the sudden presence of him in my apartment. There, in a place that’s just mine. His body in my kitchen, and his eyes on me.
And then his hands and body against mine.
But he’d been in control enough to remember condoms, and composed enough to leave.
I let myself think about it for twenty-eight more seconds, the exact time it takes for me to ride the elevator to my floor in the skyscraper Exciteur calls home. Then, I leave thoughts of Isaac behind… and get to work designing a pitch for his hotel business instead. That’s what I do best, and that’s my comfort zone. At least it used to be before it was his name at the top of all my work documents.
I’m reviewing the color schemes Toby sent over for the traditional pitch when there’s a knock on my door. Toby and Jenna swing by all the time, and sometimes, the head of our department does, as well.
So I don’t look up from my screen when I answer. “Come in!”
“Sophia,” a familiar voice says.
It’s not an Exciteur employee.
Isaac’s in a navy suit, unbuttoned jacket and clean-shaven jaw, and is looking at me across the familiar space of my office with those dark eyes.
“Oh,” I breathe. “Hello.”
“Hi.” He gestures to the chair opposite mine. “Do you have a minute?”
“Yes, absolutely. Is this about the pitch?”
“That was my reason for coming to Exciteur, yes. I just spoke to Victor about it.”
“Oh,” I say again. The big, big boss. His brother’s business partner and probably also a personal friend. I’ve never been up to the thirty-fourth floor where he conducts business. “Interesting.”
Isaac’s lips curve into a half smile. “All good things.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I also told your department head I’m only popping by to chat with you about how it’s coming along and to touch base. Everyone’s aware it’s a professional visit.”
I knit my hands together on the desk. “Of course. What do you want to know? Things are coming along great, and I’m confident we’ll have it ready in time.”
He leans back in the chair, and beneath my desk, I feel the brush of one of his long legs against mine. “How have you been?”
“Since the weekend?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Great, actually,” I say. The memory of what happened in the shower must play across my face, evident in my gaze.
His eyes warm. “Great? Funny. So have I.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I must have had a relaxing weekend.”
“I can’t imagine you did,” I say. “You flew in from another country, were forced to play in a tennis tournament with a crazy woman you work with, and then you…”
“Then I what?”
I shake my head. “Never mind.”
The words that had come to my mind aren’t fit to be spoken in the office, and I can’t bring myself to say them. And then you got hot and heavy without the reward.
Isaac runs a hand along his jaw. “Because I couldn’t… finish what I started?” he asks. “I’ll admit that was frustrating at the time, but it was still worth it. Overall, a very pleasant experience.”
“I’m glad,” I murmur. “Because it was for me, too.”
He gives a wide smile. “I noticed. So, I’ve been thinking about the rules.”
“The rules,” I repeat. “Which ones? Oh, that I don’t date Upper East Side men? And you don’t…”
“Mix business and pleasure, yes,” he says. “They’ve been on my mind quite a bit since your shower.”
Heat rises beneath my blouse, inching toward my neck. Bad idea, but it’s so well-packaged, and sitting right in front of me. I remember the feeling of his hand, strong and broad, sliding down my stomach to find what it sought.
I swallow hard. “And what have you decided?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.
“So, stopping by to see St. Clair was a ruse?”
“Yes, but don’t tell him that. His ego would never recover.”
“I’ll keep it between us,” I say.
Isaac braces an arm against my desk. “You’re pitching my executive team in two weeks. Correct?”
“Yes,” I say. Then I start to smile. “And it’s only after the pitch that your team has to decide about hiring us to manage the project or not.”
“Exactly. Which means we’re not technically in business together until that decision is made,” he says. “The pitch is like an audition.”
“Airtight logic.”
He chuckles. “Well, it takes care of the business and pleasure part. Now, you want to avoid dating men from New York, right?”
“Not from the entire city,” I say. “That’d make life pretty hard. But from Upper East or West Sides. Anyone who’s ever been to a country club is automatically ruled out.”
Isaac nods like my logic is equally sound. “That’s right. Well, if we only have two weeks, and a clear time limit, would it even qualify as dating?”
I start to smile. “No.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he says.
“Great minds think alike.”
“So it seems,” he says, and then he smiles, too. “You look beautiful today.”
“Thank you.”
“Does that skirt come with built-in shorts, as well?”
I laugh. “No, it definitely doesn’t.”
“Interesting,” he says, voice warm. “Come to Connecticut with me this weekend.”
“Connecticut?”
“We won that spa and hotel night.”
“You won it,” I correct softly. My mind is wheeling at the idea of slipping away from the city and everyone who knows us, from our everyday life with Exciteur and the Winter Hotel…
“Come with me,” he says again. “One night, two days.”
It’s a possibility that shouldn’t even exist but now just might, a brief window into what life might have looked like if things were different. I look at the man across from me. The man who’s looking back at me with tension in his shoulders, waiting for my decision. Caring about what I decide.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up on Saturday,” he says, and then he smiles, a wide grin spreading across a face that seems unused to it. “They have a tennis court at the hotel.”
“They do?”
“Yes. Bring your racket.”
He stands and extends a hand across the table. I take it, warm fingers closing around mine. “What’s this?”
His eyes are alight with humor. “Always a pleasure working with you, Miss Bishop,” he says.
“Likewise, Mr. Winter.”
“It’s rare to find someone who appreciates such… clear communication.”
“Definitely. Not to mention someone who plans ahead.”
He lifts my hand and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist, warm and brief. The gesture catches me off guard. “I’ll plan ahead for this weekend,” he murmurs.
A shiver sends goose bumps along my arms. “Good,” I whisper. “Would hate for you to end up… unsatisfied again.”
He smiles and drops my hand. “Until Saturday, then.”
“Until Saturday,” I say.
