Once again, Astrid saw right through him. “It sounds silly, though, doesn’t it? Plus, you’re the one who’s talking about being positive. I’m not employing logic or optimism.”
“You really are worked up about tonight, aren’t you? All that talk about nerves was real.”
“I’m sure it makes me seem like a fool, but yes. I don’t enjoy crowds. I don’t enjoy phony social situations, and I do not relish the thought of sitting in that room, hearing my name announced among the nominees, and not ultimately hearing that I won. I know it won’t be the end of the world, but I’m still dreading that moment.”
She approached him slowly, making him feel like he was a buck alone in a meadow, poised to run off into the woods at any time. Stopping mere inches from him, she reached up and reassuringly rubbed his arm, and his defenses wavered. It would be so simple to kiss her and take her in his arms.
“I think you need to give up control tonight,” she said in a calm and measured tone.
“Excuse me?”
“You like to be in charge. You like to manage every little thing. But it’s not going to work in this situation. You have no control.”
“So what do I do? Radically change my personality and suddenly become laid back and relaxed?”
She shook her head. “No. You put me in the driver’s seat. I am in charge. You do what I say. No exceptions.”
He didn’t mean to scoff at her suggestion, but the breathy grunt escaped his lips before he could even think about it. “That won’t work.”
“But it will. I just need you to trust me.”
“I don’t do that, either.”
She fluttered her long, dark lashes at him—it felt deeply manipulative and yet it might have been the sexiest thing he’d seen in his lifetime. “Let me put it this way. If you don’t give me control, I’m leaving. Do you want me to go?”
He tried not to look at the enticing contours of her bare collarbone or think about what it might be like to kiss her there, but he failed. The thought of Astrid abandoning him was unthinkable, even for the man who’d spent so much time pushing her away. “No. I don’t want you to go.”
Astrid wasn’t about to gloat over her win in getting Clay to acquiesce to her plan. At least not outwardly. On the inside, she was doing a victory dance. Progress. Finally. If nothing else good happened in the next twenty-four hours, she would at least know that she’d convinced him of something.
She held his hand on the elevator as they rode down to the lobby. He shot her a questioning look when she first did it, and she returned the expression, but hers came with two arched eyebrows and the subliminal reminder that she was in charge and he’d better not question her methods. Luckily, the presence of several other guests kept him quiet. She knew that human contact would help him stay grounded. It would help him relax. Even when he radiated so much tension she was worried he might snap in two.
Downstairs, they wound their way through the elegant lobby and back to the ballroom where the dinner and awards ceremony were being held. They waited in line to check in, and Astrid noticed that there was a photographer with professional lighting and a backdrop waiting for them after that step. She already anticipated that Clay wouldn’t want his picture taken, and she armed herself with the appropriate argument.
“Yes. Hi. Astrid Sterling and Clay Morgan,” he said when they reached the table. “We’re both with Sterling Enterprises in San Diego.”
Astrid hadn’t realized how much pride she would take in her job and the fact that she worked with Clay until she heard him say that. It made her heart swell.
“Yes, Mr. Morgan. We have you at table two right in front of the stage. Good luck this evening.”
“Just what I wanted,” Clay muttered sarcastically to Astrid. “To be on full display, right in the very front of the room.”
“Optimism. Think of it as a shorter walk if you win.” She nodded at the photographer. “Ready to get your picture taken, guy who doesn’t want to be in the spotlight?”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes. We do. You’ll be fine. I’ve done this a million times.”
“Am I supposed to stand a certain way?”
“One hand in your pants pocket, the other at your side. Don’t square your shoulders to the camera.” She tugged on his hand until they were standing before the backdrop. Astrid instinctively angled her body and placed her hand on her hip.
Clay took her directions perfectly. So much so that the photographer took note. “You two look like you’ve done this before.”
Clay actually smiled. “It’s all her. She’s the pro.”
“Well, you look amazing together. Enjoy your night.”
Astrid could hardly contain her grin as they strolled into the room. She was certain that they did look good together. Very, very good. “Shall we get a drink before they have us sit for dinner?”
“Yes. Let’s see if there’s anyone you need to meet.”
Astrid relinquished a bit of control as she allowed Clay to lead the way through the throng of people in the ballroom. A steady din of conversation fought with the jazz piped through the sound system, and Astrid couldn’t help but notice that there weren’t nearly enough women in the room. She worked in what was still a male-dominated industry, which only made her want to recommit herself to her role at Sterling. She, Tara, and Miranda were in a position of power and they couldn’t squander the opportunity.
“What would you like to drink?” Clay asked.
Of course he didn’t know her cocktail of choice—this was one of very few times they’d seen each other in a social setting. “White wine.”
“Nothing stronger?”
“I need to keep my wits about me. I am in charge tonight.” Again, he smiled, fueling Astrid’s desire for him. Focus on the awards. Focus on support.
After Clay got their drinks from
