“I agree it would benefit all involved,” she replied vaguely. “But what does it have to do with me?”
“I have an admission to make, Sophie,” he said, and unlike his playful confession earlier about the seating arrangements, this one caused an unsettling dip in her stomach. “After the article in the Falling Brook Chronicle, I researched you. I believe you, more than anyone, can appreciate the need to protect my sources, but despite telling me earlier that you didn’t know him, I discovered you were spotted in Joshua Lowell’s company several times.”
She remained silent, not confirming or denying. But her heart thundered against her rib cage. Though there’d been nothing untoward or illicit about their meetings—don’t even think about the kiss!—just the perception of conflict of interest could be detrimental to her reputation and career. Her original instinct to be wary around Christopher deepened, and she schooled her features into a polite but distant mask.
“I can guess what you’re assuming, Sophie, and you’re wrong,” he murmured, voice gentling. “I don’t intend to accuse you of anything or use my information against you or him.”
“Then what are your intentions?” she demanded.
“I need your help in convincing him to consider a showing next year. Just because of who he is—the CEO of Black Crescent Hedge Fund—but also because of how he walked away from what critics had predicted to be an important art career.”
Before he finished speaking, Sophie was already shaking her head. “I don’t know why you’d think I possess the influence to convince Joshua Lowell to do anything, but—”
“Because I’ve seen how he hasn’t been able to tear his gaze off you all evening. And how you’ve pretended not to notice—when you haven’t been staring back at him,” he interrupted. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her pulse was a deafening beat in her ears, in her blood. “You’re wrong,” she rasped. And hated that her voice held the consistency of fresh-out-the-package sandpaper. “We barely know each other. And even if we were...more acquainted, Joshua Lowell has buried that side of himself. And it would take much more than a few words from me to resurrect it.” But what if there was a chance for him to discover his passion again? She waved the hand that’d been resting on Christopher’s shoulder. To dismiss his request or her own thoughts? Both applied. And anyway, it wasn’t her business. Joshua wasn’t her business. “I’m sorry, Christopher. I’ve enjoyed your company tonight, but your efforts on me were wasted. What you’re looking for is a miracle, and unfortunately, I’m not in that market.”
A sardonic smile curved a corner of his mouth, although his gaze on her remained sharp. Too sharp. “Okay, Sophie. But, if you please, just think about what I’m asking. And if one day you do find yourself in the position to carry influence with him, I and my organization would appreciate it if you would broach the possibility of a show with him. It would help so many students and could very well affect lives.”
“Really?” she drawled. “The change-lives card? You’re pulling out the big guns.”
He chuckled, squeezing her fingers. “I’m nothing if not persistent and shameless.”
Thankfully, he dropped the subject. But after their dance ended and she strolled off the crowded floor, a weariness crept over her. She was ready to call it an evening and moved across the room, removing her cell from her purse to place a call to the car service that had picked her up and dropped her off here hours ago. Accepting her thin wrap from the coat check minutes later, she stepped out into the warm May evening. Sounds and scents of the City That Never Sleeps echoed around her—honks, voices carried in the night, exhaust from the passing traffic and the frenetic energy that popped and crackled in the air. There’d been a time when she’d believed her future lay in New York or a busy city like it. But Falling Brook, with its slower pace and smaller population, was home, and she wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
“Leaving so early?”
She shivered as the deep, dark timbre of the voice that held a hint of gravel rolled over her. Vibrated within her. Tightening the wrap around her shoulders, she glanced at Joshua. Several inches separated them, but the distance meant nothing with that stare blazing down at her. Lighting her up. Pebbling her nipples. Wetting the insides of her thighs. Another tremble worked its way through her, and those narrowed eyes didn’t miss her reaction.
“Are you cold?” he asked, already slipping out of his tuxedo jacket. The relief coursing through her that he’d misperceived the source of that shiver stripped her of her voice. But Joshua didn’t need her answer. He shifted closer and draped the garment over her shoulders. Immediately, his delicious sandalwood-and-rain scent enveloped her, surrounded her as effectively as if it were his arms warming her instead of his jacket.
“Thank you,” she finally said, mentally wincing at the hoarseness of her tone.
He nodded. A valet approached them, and Joshua handed him a slip of paper. After the young man strode away, Joshua returned his regard to her, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “You’re ending the evening before it’s over?” he rumbled. “Did Christopher Harrison say or do something to make you uncomfortable enough to leave?”
“No,” she said, adding a sharp head shake for emphasis. “He was fine. I’m just...tired. And I have a forty-five-minute ride ahead of me. So I’m getting a head start.”
“You’re driving?”
“Althea arranged a car service for me.”
He didn’t reply, but the full, sensual curves of his mouth tightened at the corners. He’d had a similar reaction to her editor in chief’s name earlier today. As if he resented the sound of it.
“What are you doing out
