“I’ll be there in a moment.”

I glanced back to Robert, whose voice had been just as short and terse as his father’s. Robert Sr. didn’t respond, simply turning toward the hostess.

“I need to go as well,” I stated, secretly loathing the idea of parting ways with him, but also torn between the anger I felt.

“Take my card.” He didn’t even wait for me to respond when he grasped my hand with his and placed his business card in my palm. “When you call just tell my assistant your name and she’ll put you through.”

I assumed with that he would turn and go to join his father. But I was wrong. He stood there, staring for a few heartbeats into my eyes. I was powerless to look away. And my breath hitched in my throat when a small smile touched his lips. For an instant, it felt as if I was viewing the sunrise after a long slumber. He bent low and pressed a kiss to my cheek. To any passerby it would appear innocent enough. However, the shiver that ran through my body when his lips touched my skin, and while he ran his thumb against the pulsing vein of my wrist, told an entirely different story. There was nothing innocent about this contact.

“I-I have a boyfriend,” I blurted out for lack of anything else to say. I just needed to make it known that whatever he was thinking couldn’t happen.

Robert pulled back, lifting an eyebrow, and an entirely different kind of smirk covered his face. “Not for much longer.”

And with that, he released my hand, taking one last fill of me with his eyes before turning and strolling away to meet up with his father.

It felt like I stood there for minutes when in reality it was likely only a few seconds. At some point, my brain began functioning again and I remembered that I had a job I needed to get back to. It took the two-block walk back into my office building, a ride on the elevator up to the twelfth floor, and the three minute walk from the elevator doors, through the glass doors of the office and to my desk, for me to recall that I still held Robert’s business card in my hand.

I placed the black card with silver lettering, which read Robert Townsend Vice President, Townsend Industries, on my desk. Below his name and title was his office number and extension. I ran my finger along the raised lettering on the card, and without a second thought, I brought it to my nose, secretly reveling in the faint smell of him. A mix of strength, cardamom, and cinnamon. I hadn’t forgotten that smell in the half a decade that we’d been apart.

“Deborah.”

I startled at the knock on my office door. Dropping the card and turning to the voice that called me, I gave a shaky, embarrassed smile.

“Jake, how can I help you?” I questioned my boss.