“And what have you surmised?”

  “That all of these versions are you, just tailored to the situation.”

  “Is there one you prefer over the others?” It’s good there’s a table separating us; otherwise I’d want to move closer, get in her personal space. Tuck that unruly piece of hair behind her ear.

  She bites her bottom lip and tips her head, obviously thinking through her response. “I like them all if I’m going to be honest. I like the puzzle pieces, that I get to see how they all fit together and make you who you are. Charismatic, thoughtful, charming, altruistic.”

  “What about fun?”

  She chuckles. “You’re definitely fun, and an adventure, and also devious and sneaky, but again, I like that I get to see all of those sides. And I wonder if it would have been quite so easy if I hadn’t met you when you looked more like a regular guy than the kind who owns a private jet. I imagine that must be very difficult when it comes to dating,” London muses.

  “You mean when women find out I can buy a small country?” I don’t mean to sound bitter, or jaded, but I worry it comes out with bite.

  London doesn’t shy away from the subject, not like most women would. Or try to reroute the conversation and avoid sticky topics. “Mmm, yes. I would think it could have the potential to set you up on uneven footing from the start. It would be hard to know at first if someone wanted to be with you because they genuinely like you, or if they were just trying to use you to get ahead. Unless of course you’re involved with someone with the same level of wealth.” She absently runs her finger around the rim of her glass, making it ring quietly. “And your life isn’t really private, is it? People are always interested in what you’re doing and who you’re dating, I’m sure.”

  “It can definitely be complicated.”

  “Money is a blessing and curse, isn’t it?” London says gently. “I would think it’s easy to be lonely at the top.”

  “At times, yes, but I have a few very close friends who have been with me long before this became my reality.”

  “Like Trent?”

  “Yes, exactly like Trent.” His is a friendship I’ve held onto tightly. It helps that he already came from a family with a more affluent background than mine. And that we worked together on several projects over the years, as I made my way up a ladder that didn’t seem to ever end. He has never once wavered in his allegiance to me and has shown, time and time again, that our friendship is something he values above all else.

  “It’s clear you two are close. That’s what my relationship with my sisters is like. I would do anything for them, and they would do anything for me.”

  “Which is why you choose to work with them at Spark House.”

  “It gives me a way to feel connected to my parents as well. But yes, I’m there because of my sisters.”

  “If you weren’t there, where would you be?”

  London takes a small sip of her drink and her expression grows wistful. “If I could live on what I make from my Etsy shop, I would take that on full-time. And then just be involved in the creative side of Spark House. I love that part.”

  I uncross my legs and lean forward. “Do your sisters know that?”

  “No.” She looks out at the cityscape, fingers going to her lips and staying there for a few moments. “Well, Harley knows how much I love my Etsy stuff. I don’t want them to think I don’t love doing what we do. Because I really do enjoy it.”

  “There’s a but in there, London. What is it?” I ask gently.

  Her tongue peeks out and then her teeth sink into her bottom lip before she turns to face me again. “The parts I love aren’t the parts that I get to focus on. Avery is amazing at organizing events. It’s natural for her and she just … loves it. And Harley is a social media guru. She knows exactly what she’s doing, but it’s not the same for me. I can crunch numbers and make phone calls and arrange meetings, but it all takes so much mental and emotional energy. I just … wish it was easier, I guess.” It looks as though she’s on the verge of becoming emotional. She sits up straight and smiles brightly. “But with all of the opportunities you keep bringing our way … who knows? Maybe I’ll get to focus more on what I love. And even if I don’t get to do it full-time, I get to be with my sisters and that’s far more important.” There’s so much conviction in her words, and a slight hint of defensiveness.

  “Do they realize what you sacrifice for them?” I ask quietly.

  “It’s not a sacrifice. They’re my family. They’re all I have, and I would trade my dream job a billion times over to preserve the closeness we have. It doesn’t matter that sometimes we drive each other nuts. I adore them.”

  “I can understand not wanting to lose that closeness, but if you have to let your own dreams languish so they can live theirs, is that really better?” I pause to let my words sink in. As someone who has had the freedom to figure out what I love to do, it pains me that she can’t do the same. “You always seem to put everyone else ahead of yourself, London. Maybe you need to start putting yourself first.”

  She takes a sip of her drink, and I’m unsure how she feels about what I said.

  “Losing my parents made me aware of just how fragile life is. And then last year when we almost lost Avery.” She looks away and takes a deep breath. “It’s not just about me. It’s about my family. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the people we love. And usually those sacrifices are worth it.”

  We talk a little more, but I can see that she’s tired and starting to fade.

  She covers her mouth, stifling a yawn. When she drops her hand, she gives me an apologetic smile. “I should probably get ready for bed. I have to be up early, Crêpes Suzette and all.”

  I nod. “Probably a good idea. I should do the same so I can watch you make them. Unless you’re feeling generous and decide I’m allowed to try them.”

  She gives me a saucy grin. “I could be persuaded to share.”

  London rises, and I have to avert my gaze so I don’t get caught checking her out. She’s even more of a temptation than she was before we came out here and had this soul-baring talk.

  I remind myself that there are still a little more than two weeks before the event. Once it’s over, I’ll remove myself from anything business-related so I can finally act on these feelings and ask her out.

  London tips her head. “Are you coming in?”

  “In a minute. I need to shut everything down and turn out the lights.” I motion to the dimly lit apartment.

  “You don’t have a remote control for that?” she teases.

  I do, and someone who will turn them off for me if I forget. And everything is on a timer and motion sensor, but I just smile. “Rest well, London. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her face falls slightly, but she smiles and nods. “Of course. You too. See you with the sun.” She turns away and pads across the terrace, slipping inside.

  I listen for the sound of her leaving the penthouse before I let my head drop back and just breathe for a few minutes. I should have let Trent take over when he offered.

  13

  ANOTHER CHINK IN THE ARMOR

  JACKSON

  I wake up at five the next morning to the most amazing smell. It takes a moment for me to remember that London is here and she promised me Crêpes Suzette. Usually, my breakfast consists of coffee and something I can take with me on the way to the office, or whatever is reasonable to eat at my desk while I check emails.

  I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, brush my teeth, and comb my hair before I pad down the hall to the kitchen. London’s back is turned to me, her long hair pulled into a knot on top of her head. She’s wearing a loose, flowy shirt that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of fitted jeans. She looks incredible, but more than that, she looks like she belongs here and always has.

  “You are amazing,” I say, rather than think.

  She gasps and turns around. “Oh! Hey there! I hope I didn’t wake you up with all the noise.”

  “You weren’t kidding about being an early riser.”

  “Not even a little.” She points her spatula at the French press. “There’s fresh coffee and the crêpes will be ready in just a few minutes.”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “If you want to get out plates and cutlery, that would be wonderful. Everything I needed was already set out for me this morning, apart from the dishes we’d eat on.”

  I have to thank Aylin for making sure she had everything to make this happen. I warm the plates by running them under hot water for a minute, then dry them and set them on the counter next to the cooktop. A tendril of hair has escaped from the knot of top of London’s head and she keeps trying to blow it out of her face because her hands are busy.

  “Hold on, let me help you.”

  “It’s fine. It’s just tickling my nose.” She swipes her forearm across her face and blows the hair away again.

  “It’s annoying the hell out of you. Lift the frying pan and hold still for me.”

  She sighs, but does as I ask, taking a step away from the stove, bringing her into my personal space. She smells just as delectable as the crêpes she’s cooking, like vanilla and something sweet and citrusy.

  I take the opportunity for what it is and pull the elastic free from her hair. I grip the satiny strands in one hand and run my fingers from her hairline to the crown a few times, making sure I have all the flyaways and the strays before I fix it with the elastic again.

  Without thinking about what I’m doing, I lean in and brush my lips across the nape of her neck.

  She sucks in a startled breath and nearly loses her hold on the frying pan. As it is, the crêpe slides off the pan and lands on the floor at her feet. She manages to catch herself before the pan joins the crêpe.

  “Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t … I didn’t—” She stumbles over her words.

  “It’s my fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing.” I take the pan from her and turn off the burner, before grabbing the crêpe from the floor and tossing it in the garbage, burning my fingertips in the process.

  When I turn around, London is rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, the fingers of her other hand brushing over her lips, her brow pulled into a furrow.

  “Sorry about the casualty.”

  She blinks a couple of times. “Oh, it’s fine. It was the last one and there are plenty. Let me plate them.” She moves across the kitchen, fingers still on the back of her neck. She opens the wall oven and uses a potholder to remove the glass baking dish.

  I managed to make it through last night without crossing the line, and of course I go and fuck it up this morning. I want to address it, but for once, I don’t know what to say. And with the way she’s going about plating the crêpes as if nothing happened, I can almost convince myself that I only thought about kissing her neck instead of following through on it.

  Once the crêpes are plated, we take a seat at the kitchen table that’s rarely ever used and dig in. I groan on the first bite, the delicate crêpe and the delicious sweet tart of the orange filling hitting my tongue. “This is incredible. Next time you’ll need to teach me how to make these.”

  She pauses with her fork halfway to her mouth. Her expression reflects mild shock, but she quickly recovers. “I’d be happy to. Harley is the one who taught me how to make them. She’s the cook of the family. She used to bake with our mother all the time as a child, mostly so she could lick the beaters when she made icing, I think, but she’s amazing in the kitchen.”

  “Based on this, you’re not too shabby yourself.”

  “I have a few choice things that I’ve mastered, but Harley can pull anything out of the fridge and turn it into something delicious.”

  “That must be handy, although I’m guessing you all don’t have a lot of time to cook with your hectic schedule,” I observe.

  “Sundays through Wednesdays aren’t quite as busy as the weekends, so she usually has time to put together a few decent meals, and of course, I help when I’m useful. I imagine you must not have a lot of time to make use of this kitchen.” London motions to the space with her fork before stabbing another piece of crêpe.

  “Not really. And cooking for one isn’t particularly exciting. I often have dinner meetings, and on the rare occasions that I’m home before eight, I have someone who prepares meals for me.”

  London tips her head to the side. “Having food waiting for me when I walk through the door sounds amazing, but I imagine the novelty wears off pretty quickly.”

  I smile at her astuteness. “Mmm, that it does. Gourmet meals are wonderful, but they’re a lot nicer when there’s someone to share them with. And you may be surprised to hear that I enjoy cooking, but only when I’m not eating alone, which is rare.”

  “A bachelor who can cook seems a bit like a mythical creature,” she says with a mirthful smile.

  I laugh. “That’s a terrible stereotype.”

  “You’re right, it is.” She props her fist on her chin. “What was the first thing you learned to cook, and how old were you?”

  “Toast with butter, and I was four, but I don’t think that really counts. When I was six, I learned how to make pancakes. Not from scratch, but from a box where all you had to do was add water.”

  “Six?” Her eyes flare. “That’s so young.”

  “I had supervision. My parents were both in treatment at the time, and I’d been living on peanut butter sandwiches. Trent’s mom came over and realized how dire the food situation had gotten. Neither of my parents had an appetite, and I was limited to what I knew how to make, apart from heating up frozen meals in the microwave. So she would come over every couple of days and teach me how to make something new. We started with easy things, like pancakes from a mix or things that didn’t involve a lot of steps.”

  London reaches out and her warm palm settles on my forearm. “That must have been so hard for you.”

  “I didn’t really know any different. I’d grown up with sick parents and needed to learn how to fend for myself. Of course, Trent’s family was always there. And I had other people who would trade off and help, but they couldn’t be there all the time, and I learned how to manage. By the time I was in high school, I could make a three-course meal without overcooking anything.”

  “I’m sure the girls must have loved that,” she teases.

  “I didn’t date much back then, or ever really. My focus was on my family. Most teenagers aren’t equipped to deal with that level of trauma, and I didn’t want to pull someone else into my upheaval.”

  “What about the woman you proposed to? I imagine you were fairly close if she was part of your life during such a difficult time.”

  “We ran in the same circles. Her family was close with Trent’s family, and we often ended up at the same events, so we would all hang out together. She was part of my friend group. She was there for me when things got really bad. She was … a good friend, and provided a lot of emotional support, and at the time, it was what I needed. But like I said, my headspace wasn’t the best when I proposed. I was looking for any kind of stability. It wasn’t fair to her.” I redirect the conversation, not wanting to talk about that time in my life, not when we’ve had such a great night and morning.

  After breakfast I help London clean up, even though I have someone who normally does that for me. It gives me an opportunity to spend more time with her. Once the breakfast dishes are done, she returns to her room to gather her things and I accompany her to the airport.

  “I’m sorry I can’t come back with you.” I truly mean it. I’d love to return to Colorado, but I have afternoon meetings. As it is, I pushed several back and rearranged yesterday so I could spend the entire day with London.

  “I completely understand, and I sincerely appreciate all the time you’ve already taken out of your schedule for me.”

  “It’s absolutely been my pleasure.”

  When she steps in and wraps her arms around my waist, I sink into the warm embrace. I don’t know if there’s ever been a time in my life when I’ve felt so connected to another person.

  There’s chemistry between us. It crackles like thin sheets of ice under heavy treads every time I’m near her. I just need to stay on the right side of the line until I can pass the reins over.

  * * *

  Trent is already sitting behind my desk when I arrive at the New York office. “Spill it, Jax.”

  I set my briefcase down on the desk, very nearly landing on his pinkie. “You’re not even going to give me five minutes to get my head in the game?”

  “It’s ten, two hours later than you usually get here. I think you’ve had plenty of time to get your head in the game. What happened with London?”

  “I didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you’re asking.” I drop into the chair opposite him.

  “Has anything happened that could constitute crossing the line?”

  I tap my lips with my fingers, thinking about the way I kissed the back of her neck and then pretended as though it didn’t happen.

  “I’m taking this long pause as a yes. Jax, you’re setting yourself up for a harassment case if you’re not careful. This isn’t 1980 when you can sleep with your secretary and everyone pats you on the back like assholes.”

  “I know that.”

  “The power dynamic is way off. You said you had this under control, and it’s really damn clear to me and everyone else that you don’t. That woman looks at you like you’re the north star and you look at her like she’s your favorite dessert. How do you think this would roll out in the news? Billionaire CEO takes advantage of small business owner in exchange for sponsored ads?”

  From his perspective, everything he’s saying is right. “I kissed the back of her neck this morning.”

  His brows do the worm on his forehead. “You what?”