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“Thank you,” she whispered, taking a small step back while staying in the circle of my arms. “These materials…” Her voice was thick. “I can’t wait to get started.”
I glanced down at her, at her lips, at the way they parted ever so slightly, and for a moment it felt like Natasha might just press up on her toes and kiss me. To my shock, I wanted her to close the distance. Or should I just do it myself?
Then she released me, stepping back. “You’re buzzing.”
“I—oh…” My phone rang in my pocket. There had never been a worse moment for a call, but I fished it out in case it was Nana Dee. The shadows made it hard to see the screen, so I tilted it more toward Natasha to get some better light, finally able to see that it was only my mom. I frowned down at it as I swept the call away, sending her straight to voicemail, as usual.
“You could have gotten that.”
“It’s fine.” When I looked up at Natasha again, the warmth from moments ago had disappeared, leaving a steely ice queen in its place. What the hell had happened?
“I should get going,” she said abruptly. “It’ll be a long trip back to Queens for me.” She headed for the door, shoving it open. “You think you can drop me at the LIRR station?”
I stayed frozen for a second, still stuck on how the moment had gone sour so quickly. But I pulled it together, following after her and catching up with her on the steps. “No.”
She turned on her heel. “No?”
I almost collided with her. “I meant that you don’t have to take the train. I can just drive you home. I’m going that way anyway.”
“I don’t need you to drive me,” she said, turning away from me again. “I’m perfectly capable of taking the train.”
“I never said you weren’t. But I insist.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
We got back in the car, and I pulled away from the church, grimacing at the tension that filled the car.
I cleared my throat, determined to get the conversation back on track. Maybe she’d just gotten embarrassed over the hug and wanted some distance between us. That would be the smart choice anyway. Faking a relationship for Nana Dee was one thing, but we didn’t need to start confusing ourselves too. This was a business relationship and nothing more. But there was no reason why we couldn’t get along—in a businesslike way, of course.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I said, hoping a show of manners might smooth things out. “I know you’ll be late getting home, but I hope it sparked some ideas for Dee’s pieces. Or even other pieces.”
Natasha sighed, looking over at me. “I’m actually wondering how much stained glass is too much to put in a piece.”
I laughed. “Dee would say such a thing doesn’t exist.”
Natasha’s lips fought a smile. It was reluctant, but it was progress. And as I drove back toward Queens, the iciness melted, but she made no move to touch me again. I told myself that was for the best—and I tried to believe it.
9
NATASHA
“Hey, you got a minute?”
I glanced up from my work, twisting around in my swivel chair. Trent leaned against my office door, arms casually crossed, his dark hair swept back with product. Damn, the man was insufferably hot. He arched his brow slightly, and I almost expected a team of photographers to appear, shooting him for next month’s cover ofGQ. His fitted suit hugged everything just right, and I had to force myself to look away. I could only admire him for so long before it would get weird.
Whoever his tailor was, they needed a massive raise. That’s all I’m saying.
“I have a few minutes,” I said, putting my pencil down. “Then I have to get this idea out to Bonnie and Shay.”
“I’ll make it quick then. Wouldn’t want to cross the CAD designers. I’m well aware that they’re a clique I want to be on good terms with.”
I smirked.
He inclined his head. “Join me for a little walk?”
I climbed to my feet, following Trent into the hall. “Where are we going?”
His lips curled into a smile. “I wanted to show you the demo for the showroom that’s going to be set up in our international locations.” He stopped in front of the elevator, hitting the call button.