Page 54 of Let It Breathe (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #1)

“Of course there is.” Suppressing a sigh, Jenna set down her bread and looked at Allie. “What’s going on?”

“They’re balking at hosting it here, given the contentious turn in negotiations. They’re worried about optics.”

“Our optics are fine .” She crossed her fingers under the desk and prayed that remained true. Belmont needed the clout that came from hosting medical association seminars like the ones Allie Ross brought in. “I swear, everything’s under control.

She sounded like a broken record and her lunch break was nearly over. God, this week couldn’t end soon enough.

Allie seemed to register that she’d interrupted Jenna’s meal. Blanching, she baked away from the desk. “I’m sorry. I can come back later when you’re done eating.”

“It’s fine.” She glanced at Gert’s neon pink note tucked in the back of her phone case.

Looks like I won’t be embracing my inner sex goddess anytime soon, Aunt Gertie.

“You know,” Allie said, surveying the assortment of containers on Jenna’s desk. “I just read an article about the importance not working through meals. Apparently the average desk has four hundred times more bacteria than a public bathroom.”

Jenna held back another big sigh as she pushed everything aside and slid her hands to her lap.

“I can promise there’s zero risk of me eating anything at my desk. So tell me, how can I help?”

Adam Thomas walked into The Corkscrew at seven forty-seven. He knew that because he glanced at his watch at least three times en route to the bar.

“Meeting someone?” the bartender asked, wiping down the mahogany surface with a cloth.

“Good guess,” Adam said, laying claim to the lone vacant barstool in the place. “Is it always this packed on a Wednesday night?”

He shrugged. “It’s Portland. A wine bar’s a hot place to be whether you’re having a business meeting or a baby shower. Can I get you a wine list, or do you know what you need?”

“I’m not sure. I just realized I got the time zone wrong and I’m an hour early for my meeting. Maybe I should come back.”

“You meeting a woman?”

“What?”

The bartender nodded toward a bistro table in a darkened corner. “That woman over there said she’s waiting for someone. Thought she might be who you’re meeting.”

Adam studied the slender brunette with glossy, shoulder-length hair and amazing legs.

She’d kicked her shoes off under the table and was staring down at her phone with a slight frown.

A lock of hair fell over her face, and as she reached up to tuck it behind her ear, Adam felt something twist in his gut.

“That her?” the bartender asked.

“It could be.”

Hell, he had no idea whether the hiring manager was male or female. Every email message had been signed “Kendall Freemont,” and the one phone exchange he’d attempted had given him an automated messaging system with a robotic voice.

It was possible the woman in the bar was Kendall Freemont, but more possible Adam just wanted an excuse to talk to her. He pushed himself off the barstool, legs propelling him in the direction of the mystery woman while his brain remained behind asking if this was a good idea.

“Excuse me, Ms. Freemont?”

The woman looked up and blinked at him with eyes so deeply blue, he forgot his name.

She frowned at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Kendall Freemont,” he repeated dumbly, knowing this couldn’t possibly be his eight-thirty appointment, but wanting to stay and talk to her anyway.

“Hello, Kendall—I’m Jenna. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes were friendly and welcoming, not at all the expression of a woman who thought he was there to hit on her. Or if she did think that, she didn’t seem to mind. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, and Adam forgot his name again.

“No, Adam,” he blurted. “I’m Adam, and I’m meeting Kendall, but I’m an hour early. Actually, I’m not even sure if Kendall is a man or a woman, and I thought you might be her, but you aren’t.”

It came out sounding more like a question than a statement, and Adam realized he urgently wanted her to be Kendall so he could have an excuse to sit down with her. She smiled, and his fingers clenched around the handle of his briefcase.

“Nope, I’m not Kendall, but you’re welcome to hang out if you can’t find a table.

” She tucked a little neon pink card into a pocket on the back of her phone case before pushing the phone aside.

“Looks like my girlfriend had something come up at the last minute, so I’m just going to finish my Pinot and head home.

Feel free to park it here if you want to nab my table when I leave. ”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” Adam eased into the seat across from her and immediately felt his crotch vibrate. It took him a moment to realize he had a text message. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he glanced down.

“This must be the night for people to get stood up,” he said. “My appointment just canceled on me. Too bad, I was looking forward to that Pinot.”

“You’re a Pinot fan?”

He shrugged and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Actually, no. I’m not even entirely sure what Pinot is. But I’ve been on a quest to try new things, so that seemed like a good one to add to my list.”

Jenna lifted her glass and signaled a passing waiter. “This particular Pinot Noir comes from right here in Oregon. An up-and-coming vineyard called Sunridge.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s fantastic. I did a girls’ getaway there with a friend, so I got to try all their best wines.” She took a sip, and he studied her lips on the rim of the glass. “This one’s a little spicy with hints of strawberry and cherry, medium tannins. Very drinkable.”

“In that case, why don’t you order another?

” He nodded at her glass, which had only a tablespoon of liquid left in the bottom.

Hardly enough to keep her here as long as he hoped to talk to her.

“My treat. I’ve been flying all day and I’m wiped.

Besides, we might as well drown our sorrows since we’ve both been stood up for the evening. ”

She seemed to hesitate a moment, one finger sliding over the pocket on her phone case. Then she smiled. “Sure, why not?”

He ordered for both of them—two glasses of the Pinot she suggested and a cheese plate that sounded like the right thing to go with wine, though what the hell did he know?

He’d always been more of a cocktail fan, or at least he was when he’d been married.

They’d even bought a liquor cabinet and took turns trying out new recipes.

That was back before things had gone to hell, before she’d decided she was done with him and moved on with?—

“So you’re not from around here?”

Her voice jolted him off the dark path he’d been headed down. He met her eyes, trying not to let his gaze stray to her breasts. “What makes you think I’m not a Portlander?”

“You said you’d just flown into town.”

“Actually, I said I’d been flying all day. Maybe I’m a pilot.” Adam grinned. “Or a pterodactyl.”

“Excellent point.” Jenna’s mouth twitched. “It’s also possible you live here and you’re returning home after traveling someplace else, but that’s clearly not the case.”

Adam tugged at the knot in his tie to loosen it. “Oh? What gives me away as nonnative to Portland?”

She grinned and took a sip of wine. “Your tie is too straight, your shirt is too pressed, and you don’t appear to have any piercings or tattoos.”

“Maybe you’re not looking in the right places.”

He couldn’t believe how blatantly suggestive his words came out, and he almost apologized. But instead of tossing her drink at him, she grinned wider.

“Maybe I’m not,” she said, her eyes darting to the bare ring finger on his left hand. “I’ll have to do a more thorough examination.”

He let his own gaze stray to her ring finger, visibly bare on the stem of her wineglass. He brought his eyes back up to meet hers, and she gave him a knowing smile.

“Now that we’ve gotten the obligatory ring check out of the way and reassured ourselves we’re not sharing drinks with a serial philanderer, tell me about yourself,” she said.

Adam leaned back in his chair, not bothering to hide his intrigue. “How do you know I’m not a serial philanderer?”

“No tan line where your ring would be, but there’s a tan line on your wrist. I saw it when you checked your watch a second ago.”

The waitress returned and set down two glasses of wine, along with a platter heaped with at least a dozen mounds of fancy crackers, crumbly cheeses, and cured meats. He plucked an olive and a handful of crackers, arranging them neatly on the small plate in front of him.

“You’re very observant,” he said.

“I try.”

“Are you a private detective? Clinical psychologist? International terrorist specializing in wine-bar espionage?”

She laughed, a sound so sweet and musical he wanted to break out a book of knock-knock jokes just to hear her laugh again.

“International terrorist. I like that. Much more exciting than my real profession.” She took a sip of wine and set her glass down.

“I think I’m going to claim that as my job for the rest of the evening. Thank you for the idea.”

“Glad to aid with a positive career change.”

“I’m an international terrorist and espionage expert who invented a patented wiretap that doubles as a wineglass.”

“A winetap?”

“I see you’ve heard of it.” She leaned forward in her seat, and Adam caught sight of a flash of black lace down the front of her dress. “So how about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s your fantasy job for the evening?”

“Hmmm. How about a chef?”

She smiled over the rim of her wineglass. “I think you can do better than that. Something sexier.”

“Sexier,” he repeated. He picked up his own glass, emboldened by the liquid and by the sound of that word coming from those perfect lips. “I’ll be a gigolo.”

“A gigolo?”

“A high-class gigolo. My client—an esteemed senator from California—was meeting me here this evening for a rendezvous, but she got cold feet when she saw the media camped outside waiting to do a big exposé.”