And The Winner Gets...Married!. Metsy Hingle
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the bar in his office. Kim couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a meal half as much.
Maybe it was the wine, she thought, as she breathed in the merlot and watched Justin over the rim of her glass. He seemed more relaxed, warmer toward her than he’d been in days. And she…she was enjoying herself, enjoying him. Sitting back in her chair at the conference table in Justin’s office, Kim allowed herself the pleasure of watching him.
“How’s the wine?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” she replied, and took another sip to prove it. Remembering what she’d read about wine, she allowed the flavor to rest on her palate to fully enjoy its taste before swallowing.
“Don’t tell me you’re full,” Justin teased.
“Hardly.” She took a third slice of the pizza. “Tell me more about the teenagers you work with at the youth center.”
“They’re a challenge,” he began, and told her about how bright some of the troubled teens he’d been working with really were. “They keep me on my toes, that’s for sure. You should think about coming down. There’s a lot they could learn from you.”
“I doubt that. You’re the marketing whiz.”
“But there’s more to business than marketing. You’re smart, organized and you have a way of putting people at ease. Those are rare qualities, Kim. You instill even a fraction of them in those kids and it’ll go a long way toward shaping their future.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, touched by the sincerity of his words.
“Nothing to thank me for. It’s the truth. And I hope you’ll at least think about coming down to the center.”
“I will,” she promised, and nearly choked when he smiled at her. God, but he was beautiful, she thought as she watched him tackle another slice of pizza. With that hint of red in his brown hair, the hazel eyes filled with laughter, the strong cheekbones and stubborn chin. For him to be so nice and honorable, too, just made him that much more attractive. Who could blame her for falling in love with him?
“You going to eat that?” he asked, pointing to the last slice of pizza on her plate.
“No. You go ahead and finish it,” she told him.
“Tell you what. Why don’t we split it,” he suggested, and proceeded to divide the slice in two.
Justin polished off his half in a matter of seconds, but it took her a while longer. “Full?” he asked as he refilled both of their glasses.
“Stuffed is more like it,” she confessed, dropping her napkin on the paper plate.
“Hang on a second. You’ve got a little tomato sauce on your face.”
“Where?” she asked, and reached for a napkin to blot at her chin.
“Here, let me do that,” he said, and, taking the napkin from her, he caught her chin in his hand and gently dabbed at a corner of her mouth.
He was so close Kim could see the stubble on his chin, smell the woodsy scent he wore. And when his fingers stilled and he looked into her eyes, she could scarcely breathe.
“You have the most incredible-colored eyes,” he told her.
“They’re blue.”
“No. Not blue. Not green. But a combination. They’re the color of water in the Caribbean where I sailed my boat last summer.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, brought his face a fraction closer. “Kim, I…”
Kim’s heart beat wildly in her chest. The breath stalled in her lungs. Instinctively she tipped up her head, closed her eyes and waited for the touch of his mouth.
“I-it’s getting late. We probably should call it a night,” Justin said, and dropped his hand from her face.
The words hit Kim like a blast of cold water. Her eyes snapped open and she scrambled to her feet, horrified of what Justin must think of her. Unable to meet his gaze for fear he would realize she’d wanted him to kiss her, she began to frantically snatch up the empty plates and napkins. “You can go on home. I’ll clear away this stuff and lock up,” she told him as she piled the paper goods atop the now-empty pizza box.
“Here, let me get that,” Justin offered when her unsteady fingers began dropping the soiled napkins.
“I’ve got it,” she argued.
But Justin ignored her. “You’ve worked hard enough today. Go ahead and close up shop at your desk while I handle the cleanup.”
Eager to escape, Kim didn’t argue. She simply fled Justin’s office, praying she could get out of there before he saw the tears prickling at the backs of her eyes. Quickly she grabbed her purse from inside the drawer of her desk where she kept it and snatched up her car keys. “Good night, Justin,” she called out, and started for the door. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“What? Wait a minute,” he said, sticking his head out the door of his office. “Let me get rid of this,” he told her, indicating the wineglasses and wine bottle he held in his hands. “It’ll only take me a second and then I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s really not necessary. Tom or one of the other security guards will see that I get there safely.”
“But—”
“I’ve got to go. Have a safe trip and good luck with Schaeffer tomorrow,” she said, and exited the office suite quickly before the first tears began to fall.
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