“It’s settled then,” Tara said. “I’ll get my assistant to book an extra room at the hotel for Astrid.”
“Okay,” Astrid said.
“And I take it you’re all set with a babysitter for Delia?” Tara asked.
“Miranda is taking her for the night. Those two adore each other, so it won’t be a problem.”
“Perfect. I’ll let Grant know this is all settled. Where are we at with Seaport?”
“We’re digging into the more detailed changes the city requested and coordinating with the landscape designers for their side of the project,” Astrid said. “I estimate we’re ahead of schedule for the next presentation in mid-November.”
“Good. That will allow for any mistakes,” Tara said.
Clay suddenly found it hard to swallow. He had made the crucial gaffe on site orientation for the first proposal. It had almost cost them the project, and Clay was committed to never having another misstep like that one. “It won’t happen again.”
Tara got up from the couch and made her way for the door. “Still, it’s nice to have a little wiggle room.”
Clay dropped down into his office chair, and he and Astrid sat in silence for several moments after Tara left. They both seemed equally stunned and unsure, as if Clay needed another means of feeling more connected to Astrid.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” she finally said.
“Me neither.”
“If you don’t want me to go, I won’t. Even if you want me to tell Tara at the last minute that I’m sick or something. It’s your night and I don’t want to ruin it.”
Clay’s shoulders dropped. Would this feeling of being torn in two ever go away? “I had envisioned being on my own, but it might be nice to have some company.”
“Might?”
“I don’t know, Astrid. I don’t know how you are in a situation like that. I’m already plenty nervous about it. This is a professional accolade I’ve worked very hard for. It means a lot to be recognized and I know I’m going to be pretty worked up about it that night. Maybe you don’t like being around someone who’s so on edge.”
Astrid unleashed a light and musical titter that filled the room.
“What’s so funny?”
“Clay, you are always on edge. Always. And I don’t know you that well, but I suspect it’s because you spend a little too much time in your own head.”
She wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that I’m already used to handling you at your worst. And I’ve attended more award ceremonies than you can possibly imagine. I have no problem putting on a beautiful dress and walking the red carpet. I can do it in my sleep.”
Of course she could. Her modeling career had put her in untold glamorous settings. Surely dozens of men had made their overtures to Astrid, and she’d had her pick of the lot. It was one more reason to keep his brain on this very narrow path he’d carved out for them—the one where they were colleagues and nothing else, regardless of his attraction to her. Clay didn’t know her romantic history, but he could imagine a long string of broken hearts in her wake. He wasn’t about to be the next.
“And more than anything, I’m very good in a crisis,” Astrid added. “So if you panic or get too nervous, I’m sure I can find something to distract you.”
He already knew she’d have no problem doing that. But maybe this wasn’t the worst idea. It was a work trip and nothing else. He could introduce her to some people, and it would be nice to not be alone after the winner was announced—good news or bad, he was sure he’d need a steady hand to hold on to. “Okay. As long as you’re good with it.”
Astrid rose from her spot on the couch. “Of course I am. I like the idea of being someone’s insurance policy.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Astrid smoothed the front of her dress. “I mean that even if you lose, I don’t think anyone will be feeling sorry for you.”
Clay swallowed hard as he watched her walk out of his office. This was going to be a test unlike any he’d experienced in quite some time. He picked up his phone and pulled up Miranda on speed dial.
“Hey. This is a surprise,” she said when she answered.
“I was hoping you and I could talk one night this week.”
“Sounds serious.”
“I need some advice about how to ignore my attraction to a woman.”
“No way. I’m not doing that. I want you to pay attention if you’re attracted to someone.”
Clay sat back in his chair and cradled his forehead in his hand. “Yeah. That’s not going to happen.”
Three
Clay arrived at Miranda’s house Thursday night around six with his daughter, Delia, in tow.
“My two favorite people,” Miranda announced as she threw open the door.
“Aunt Miranda!” Delia exclaimed, bounding inside and into his sister’s waiting arms.
Clay smiled as he watched the pair embrace. They had quite a lot in common, both with long dark hair, big brown eyes and of course, him wrapped around their little fingers. There had been a time, when he and Miranda were young, that he never would have dared to imagine such a loving scene in his future. The day their mother dropped them off with their grandmother, never to return, was the start of their treacherous past. The details of that day would always be murky for Clay, who had only been five years old, but Miranda, who had been only two, didn’t remember it at all. One thing Clay did clearly recall was the feeling of losing all hope, and the fierce need to protect Miranda at all costs. They’d stood there together, holding hands, looking at a stern and cold woman they hardly knew, who was suddenly about to rule their whole world.
He stepped inside the foyer and closed the door behind them.
