***
Nash stepped out of the car when I walked down the steps in front of my apartment, walking carefully in my heels. I was so afraid of falling over and making a scene. But I lost all concentration when I set my eyes on him.
Nash was standing with his hand on the door of a car so expensive I didn’t recognize the make, holding it open, and he looked more dashing than ever, if that was even possible.
In a black tuxedo and crystal cufflinks, the man looked like a million dollars. His hair was neat and styled to the side, adding a softness to his face. His eyes were a clear mysterious gray. His face looked sharp, like he was cut out of marble. He seemed even taller today for some reason, and I craned my neck up at him as I approached.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to change your mind,” he said, and I nearly melted. That was what I had been thinking about him! But I wasn’t just going to say that.
“I’m a woman of my word,” I said, realizing that my cheeks were flushed.
“You look hot as hell,” Nash said.
I lost my voice. I intended to return the compliment but I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat. If I told him the truth about his good looks, everything else might come tumbling out. So, I only threw him a weak smile and stepped into the car.
The chauffeur in the front seat wished me a good evening and then a few seconds later, Nash was in the car with me. Sitting beside me. Our legs were almost touching.
His distinctive scent filled the space, and I breathed him in, wondering if I’d ever smelled anything so sensual. I wondered if I could just throw myself at him, force him to kiss me. But Nash was looking at his phone, checking something with his brows furrowed. The car started and my heart nearly collapsed from over-exertion. This was another dream come true. We were going on an actual date. The kind of evening I’d imagined in my college years, but knew would never happen. Because I wasn’t the kind of girl he was in to.
“We’re raising funds for Breast Cancer awareness. My family has been involved in the cause for the past fifteen years, since my mother passed,” Nash said, looking up at me.
“Your mother had breast cancer?” I blurted and immediately regretted it.
Nash’s face didn’t change. It remained rigid and expressionless, which always drove me nuts. I could never guess what he was thinking.
“Yes, she did. When I was in my teens,” he said and my stomach dropped.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know all those years in college,” I said, clasping my hands together on my lap. He was making it so hard for me to be mad at him. When we were alone, it was easy for me to forget what circumstances we were meeting under now.
“There were a lot of things you didn’t know about me in college, Bonnie.” Nash turned his gray eyes on me, and I looked away. I couldn’t face him. I needed a few moments to catch my breath and recuperate. His nearness was having a strange effect on me.
“And I’m sure there were a lot of things I didn’t know about you,” he added, and I managed to turn to him again. Despite what we were talking about, and even though I knew it was very inappropriate, I wanted to grab that shirt and rip it off his body. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine again, his hands on my breasts.
“We weren’t exactly friends in college,” I said.
“You could say that again.” He smiled, looking calm and natural, while I felt like I was floating away inside.
“I’m glad you agreed to join me. I wanted to show you my gratitude for giving up your company,” he said and placed his hand on my knee. The heat of his hand made me tingle from head to toe. That same hand had touched my breast. I didn’t move my leg. I wanted him, and besides, I was frozen to the spot.
“I didn’t have a choice. You had a look at our finances,” I said, gulping.
Nash’s hand remained on my knee, casually. And then he gave it a tender sympathizing squeeze. “I hope you’re not beating yourself up about it. It’s just business. It happens,” he said, staring right into my eyes. I was convinced he knew what I was thinking. That he was too close for comfort. That I wanted him to rip my clothes off. But he looked unaffected.
“I still have my brain, can’t buy that,” I said, stupidly.
Nash smiled, and I blushed. It had only been a few minutes, and I had already embarrassed myself.
“It’s your brain I’m after. Which is why I want you to come work with me,” he said, moving his hand away. I felt my nipples harden; I was growing wet just looking at him. I couldn’t stop my brain from imagining what he could do to me.
I couldn’t find my voice to answer him. His proposition was ridiculous. I could never work for him; it would be humiliating. But the thought of remaining in contact with him, seeing him every day… I had to admit it intrigued me.
The car zoomed through the city, and we had reached our destination before I could formulate any sort of answer.
Nash was quick to step out of the car, and I waited anxiously for him to come around and hold the door open.
I could barely move my limbs when I saw him with his hand extended to me, waiting for me to take it. It was sublime, like a dream; this couldn’t be happening.
Bright camera flashes blinded me the moment I stepped out. I almost stumbled in my heels, but Nash caught a hold of my hand.
“Sorry about the cameras. The event is heavily covered by paparazzi,” he said in my ear as he held me close. I clung to him, in need of support while also swaying under the dizzying effects of being so close to him. Nash’s scent was all around me; his arm felt rock solid and strong where I held him. He was leading me down a red carpet to the entrance of a grand hall.
I had never attended anything like this before. The red carpet we were walking down was lined with cameras, paparazzi and reporters on either side. Nash was a natural beside me, smiling and waving at everyone. I lingered beside him, still clinging to his arm like I was ready to fall flat on the ground. My heart was racing. I was worried about how I looked and if I was going to manage in those heels. Most of all, I couldn’t believe that I was with Nash Preston.
We walked into the ballroom, an elaborate colonial-styled room with a plush interior and crystal chandeliers. Smartly dressed men and women walked around in circles, talking in whispers in groups, while uniformed wait staff served them hors d’oeuvres from silver trays.
“Oh, my God, is that Mary Celeste?” I asked, shocked. I was like a starry-eyed school girl, looking around in awe upon being invited to a party for adults.
“It is indeed,” Nash said beside me, raising his hand to wave at the award-winning film star. I was ready to give up and call it quits. I was nervous and shy in these surroundings. So, this was the world that Nash Preston belonged to. How marvelous. We were worlds apart.
“And there’s Pat Comway,” Nash said, and waved to a man at the other end of the room. Pat Comway, Nash knew the playwright! My father would be so delighted to hear that I saw Pat Comway in person. I was giggling to myself, not quite believing my luck.