“Here.” He pulled out his phone and texted something. “Make a list and send it to my assistant. I just gave you her email address. She’ll get you whatever you need.”
I knew I probably should have protested, but I wanted that stuff as soon as possible. I hated waiting. So I just said, “I will. Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Let me walk you to your car. Are you going to need a jump-start to get it moving? A timing belt? A new engine?”
He laughed at his own joke, and I elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t disparage Betty. You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Apologies, Betty,” he said as we got closer; then he put his hand on the top of my car. We stood there together on the sidewalk. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”
I thought all Marco would have to do is bat his lashes and if my car had any free will, she would have dumped me in a second to follow him. “Maybe. But she can be temperamental.”
“I’ll remember that. Well, good night.” He started walking away, and I realized that I didn’t want him to leave.
“Wait!”
He stopped and turned around with a quizzical look on his face.
“Could I . . . give you a hug good night?” I realized how pathetic that sounded and added, “I just want to verify something.” He didn’t need to know that Catalina had been ready to write sonnets about his hug. I wanted to see for myself.
But if he thought my request was weird, he was polite enough not to say anything. Instead, he walked toward me, holding out his arms. I let him envelop me, wrapping my arms around his waist.
And great mother of Legolas, it was glorious.
I’d had my side pressed against him more than once that evening, but that paled in comparison to this full-frontal hug. There was warmth and strength and that delicious scent of his that made me want to melt against him. I kind of did anyway, my curves pressing against his taut chest. He was so firm and sweet.
There was a definite physical component there. All those traitorous hormones of mine were dancing with delight, making my nerve endings explode in celebration, and breathing was difficult.
But it wasn’t just about how yummy it was to touch him. There was an emotional element to it.
A person could get lost in a hug like this. It had been a very, very long time since someone had held me this way. Catalina had been wrong about one thing. It wasn’t like hugging a statue. He was much too alive for that. Marco made me feel safe, like nothing bad could ever happen to me as long as I had his arms around me. No wonder Catalina had liked it so much. If Marco could bottle this sensation up he’d be, well, even more of a millionaire.
“Did you verify what you needed to verify?” he asked against the top of my head, and it caused warm tingles to skate across my scalp and travel down my body, spreading as they went.
I let go of him and took a step back, worried that I’d start to shake or something if he kept whispering things against my skin. I commanded my legs to keep me upright and was glad that they listened.
“I did. Thanks,” I said as I folded my arms across my chest.
“Did you do that for our audience?” He nodded toward Catalina’s front window. She was there watching us, but when she saw me looking at her, she quickly shut her curtains.
“If we wanted to put on a show, I could kiss you good night. That would be more date-like and authentic,” he offered.
I couldn’t catch my breath for a moment, that internal warmth he’d caused heating up to more molten temperatures as I seriously considered what he’d said. “Catalina’s gone. Plus, she already knows we’re not really dating.”
There was a hungry look in his eyes, and I couldn’t tell if I was imagining it or if he was actually doing it. Like he wanted to kiss me either way.
He’d let me know repeatedly that he wasn’t interested in me. I was definitely making it up and feeling stupid that I had done so. “We should save some stuff for later. No reason to jump all in now.” Better to put it off for as long as I could, because I didn’t know what would happen when he actually kissed me.
That was going to happen. It would be unavoidable.
The problem was that despite my protestations, I didn’t want to avoid it.
Again he wore that knowing smile—like he understood exactly what I was doing and why—and it was infuriating.
“See you later, Anna. And good luck with your project.”
He walked back to his ridiculous car, and I told myself that I needed to focus on two things—Craig and my mood-changing lipstick.
Nothing else mattered. I shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone else.
The problem was that Marco had started to take up a large amount of real estate in my brain.
And I was ready to give that man a long-term lease.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When I got home, I sent my list of supplies to Marco’s assistant. The next morning, she replied to my email and said she’d take care of it right away and have everything overnighted. I was very excited for it all to arrive.
Because I’d been laboring over the formulation, and I was pretty sure it was going to work. I was doing some research on my computer the next day when I heard a screech of, “Yankees suck!” Someone must have knocked, and I hadn’t heard it.
My packages.
They were from several different suppliers, and there was a large box that was hard to lift. That one intrigued me the most, and I opened it first, right there in the foyer, because I was so curious.
There was some packing material that I pulled up, and inside I found a high-shear mixer.
A red one.
And it was brand new.
I didn’t know what to do. I called Catalina. We’d already had our post-party discussion where she’d filled me in on everything I’d missed, and we talked for a very long time about the hug with Marco. I repeatedly told her that I had only been doing what she’d told me to do, to touch him and not get freaked out and to see if it was like hugging a statue, but she didn’t believe my excuses. Because she was smart enough not to.
“A mixer!” I said when she finally picked up on the fourth ring.
“What?”
“Why do you sound like you’re out of breath?”
“I had to run to the refrigerator so I could talk to you.” Jerry hated cell phones and personal calls. I should have thought of that. I was just so excited. “Did you say a mixer?”
“Marco just sent me a red high-shear mixer, and it looks brand new.” It would have cost him a lot of money. Thousands and thousands of dollars.
“Aw. That is so unbelievably sweet. There wasn’t anything he could have sent you that would have meant more.”
She wasn’t wrong. This beat flowers any day.
“Is there a note?” she asked.
“Hold on.” I put the phone down and pulled the mixer out of the box completely. I dug around the bottom and found a tiny envelope. I opened it and grabbed my phone.
“It says, ‘I hope all your dreams come true’ and then his name.”
“Wow. It’s too bad you don’t want him, because that is some grade A boyfriend material right there. Do you think if I fake date him, he might get me that Tesla I’ve always wanted?”
Ignoring her joke, I put the note down and ran my hand along the top of my mixer. “I can’t believe he did this.”