Page 37 of The Clinch
He puts the phone down like it suddenly matters where his hands are. “You look...” He stops, then tries again. “You look stunning.”
The compliment is simple. His eyes are not.
His attention lingers at the low dip of my back. I feel the weight of it, like his hand has already traced the line. I smooth the front of the dress. “Jessica has good taste.”
“She does,” he says quietly, taking a step toward me. Then another.
He stops in front of me. Near enough that I feel warmth radiating off him. Near enough that the faint spice of his cologne sinks into my breath. Cedar and something woodsy and dark.
For one suspended moment, he just looks at me.
His gaze drops to where the dress dips low on my back and lingers again.
When his eyes return to mine, they’re darker. “We should go,” he says, voice rougher than before.
But he doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Finally, he offers his arm. When my hand settles into the crook of his elbow, I feel the warmth of him through the jacket. I don’t pull away fast enough to mean it.
The elevator ride down is silent. The doors slide open, letting us onto the street. He opens the passenger door and waits.
He gets in beside me, adjusts his jacket, starts the engine. For a moment we sit there, neither speaking.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” Too quickly. Then more honestly, “I think so.”
He keeps driving.
As he pulls into traffic, his hand rests lightly on the console. The city lights slide past the windows, streaking gold and white.
“It’ll be straightforward,” he says. “Stay close. I’ll handle the questions. If you need a break, just tell me.”
“That sounds suspiciously easy.”
“It is.”
His hand shifts on the gearshift—not touching me, but near enough to register.
“This is temporary,” I blurt out.
I don’t know whom I’m reminding.
Because it doesn’t feel temporary in his presence. He treats it like a vow, and that makes it harder to breathe through the lie.
His profile stays still. “Everything is.”
We fall quiet. The car moves through evening traffic.
Something is different about him tonight.
Not dramatic. Not loud. Just... decided.
He decided I’d drink the smoothie.
He decided I’d ride in the Range Rover.
