Last Call Page 11

  Doesn’t take long.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  I’m totally blunt.

  “I wasn’t. Seems to be a theme when I’m around you.”

  Her posture is full of tension and anger, but I see other emotions in her eyes—the very same conflict I’m struggling with.

  “I just have one question. And then I’ll get a car right now if you want. You don’t even have to stay for a drink.”

  “Get a car? Are you telling me you don’t have one?”

  I shake my head. “No. Henry dropped me off at the plant this morning and went back to the city.”

  Her mouth drops open. “How will you get back tomorrow?”

  Of all the things for her to focus on. “He’ll come back and pick me up.”

  “Why didn’t he just stay? It’s at least a four-hour drive.”

  “He hates hotels. Too germy for him. Which makes it damn inconvenient at times. But he’s driven our family my entire life.”

  I refuse to notice the fact that her dress dips even lower now that I have a front-row seat.

  “So you hired him because he’s been in your family?”

  “Yes,” I admit. “Which is ridiculous, to be honest. He still talks to my dad, and I’m pretty sure he passes along intel about me and my whereabouts. And you already know about his hotel quirk, which renders him useless on trips if we go far enough that he can’t make it out and back overnight.”

  “So your dad has a hand in your decisions too?”

  It’s an offhanded comment, and she didn’t ask for this information. But it’s important, especially given what I’m about to ask.

  “More than you know. He loaned Enzo and I start-up money with the stipulation if we weren’t bringing in income within eighteen months, he would become part owner rather than simply an investor. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect us to get it right without his guidance.”

  Her eyes widen as the reason behind my unholy rush for approval comes to light. If only she could understand the full impact of co-owning a business with my father. But I have another revelation to focus on now as our drinks arrive.

  “Will it just be the two of you?” the waitress asks. “Do you mind if I pull the other table apart?”

  “Yes, just us,” Ada says, handing over her credit card. “And no, not at all. Go ahead.”

  She walks away.

  “You didn’t have to pay for this.”

  Being so close to her is killing me. I want to touch her, kiss her again. Feel her body under me.

  “Better than you paying,” she says. “Can’t take bribes.”

  I roll my eyes. That’s hardly an accurate portrayal of the situation, but I understand Ada’s need to cling to control. Still, it’s unnecessary. I would never in a million years use this against her.

  “So you’re staying for the drink?”

  “Depends,” she says, as cheeky as ever. “Do you really have a question for me?”

  I hate myself for asking.

  But Enzo encouraged me to be honest with myself, and I’ve realized something over the past several days. This isn’t just sexual tension. Ada seems to understand me on a soul-deep level, to see me. And she’s the most intelligent, sexiest, most interesting woman I’ve ever met.

  There’s no telling what might happen if we wait. She could easily meet someone else, and I don’t think I want to risk that. From what I understand, the post-review period can be unpredictable, and there’s no telling exactly how long it might be.

  So yes, this is a really stupid question, but I’m going to ask it anyway.

  “I can’t do this, Ada. I don’t want to pretend there’s nothing between us. I know there are risks. High risks.”

  Her lips part, and I know I’ve managed to totally surprise her. And myself.

  “But I’m willing to take them if you are. I promised not to touch you, and I did. But I won’t make that mistake again. Not tonight or any time we’re together. But I don’t want to avoid you for the next year or so.”

  I can’t avoid you.

  “I want to know about your parents, your sisters. I want to know your favorite song, your favorite color. How many boyfriends you’ve had and which ones broke your heart. I want to know your dreams, beyond this promotion. How someone your age rose so quickly in the ranks of the FDA. What you want out of life.” My hand reaches around the beer bottle, needing to touch something. I hold on tight.

  “If the thought of having an intimate relationship with a sponsor makes you too uncomfortable to consider it, I’ll respect that. But . . .” I swallow. “Will you let me in your life? Now. Not at some distant point in the future?”

  I have absolutely no indication of what she’s thinking.

  “That’s my question,” I finish, waiting for her answer. Hoping she’s more levelheaded than I am. Also hoping she’s not.

  21

  Ada

  That escalated quickly.

  As I load up my car, my hands are literally shaking. Likely because I’m about to willingly make the biggest mistake of my life.

  How we went from avoiding each other to this . . . I’m still reeling. All I know as I start my car, the one I pay an exorbitant amount to actually keep in the city, I’ve never been more excited, terrified, and confused in my entire life.

  All day, Hayden and I avoided eye contact. I felt like a bubbling mess of a person. Full of preemptive guilt, embarrassment from Qasim’s knowing gazes, and a bubbling sense of giddiness. Now it’s over, and I’m packing up my car, and what comes next . . . I’m both ready and not. In some ways, there’s no preparing for this.

  Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the entrance of Hayden’s hotel. He’s just coming through the double doors, having changed from his earlier suit into shorts and a long-sleeved button-down.

  Earlier today I was positive a dressed-up Hayden was my favorite, but I revise my opinion as he strolls toward my car. The guy looks like he’s about to board a private jet or something, and suddenly I’m reminded of our two very different lifestyles.

  And the fact that his parents do indeed own a private jet.

  Imagine if his drug is approved? I know full well the impact such a thing will have. An alcohol that eliminates the effects of being impaired? The ramifications are almost too far-reaching to contemplate. But since we never talk about it in private—that’s the one line we haven’t crossed and won’t—I know very little about Angel, Inc. from Hayden. I only know the pharmacology of the chemical agent they propose to infuse into the alcohol, plus the pill antidote that our office is examining.

  I want to know more, but I can’t ask. Not until this is finished.

  He opens the back seat and tosses his bag inside. I can already smell his cologne, subtle but distinctive, even more so as he slides into the front seat.

  I’m about to put the car in drive when his hand covers mine, making me nearly incapable of breathing.

  “You’re sure about this? I can stay here and have Henry come get me.”

  His hand doesn’t move, though, and in all honesty, I don’t want it to. I also don’t want to drive to Skaneateles alone. A few weeks ago, spending a night by myself in the sleepy town sounded divine, but I now have an entirely different set of expectations for the weekend.

  One that includes the man currently looking at me as if my answer means everything to him.

  “I’m sure.”

  And to my shock, it’s true.

  He takes his hand away. “Good. I was able to finagle the cottage next to yours. They didn’t have a problem giving both of us an extra night.”

  Of course they didn’t. I’m pretty sure Hayden could finagle just about anything he wanted.

  “Did you buy the hotel?” I pull out of the drive, starting the hour-long journey to our weekend destination.

  “No, I didn’t buy the hotel.” And then, “You know this is completely crazy.”

  “I do.”

  Hayden shifts in his seat, angling t
oward me. It’s one of the things I like about him most. When I’m with him, Hayden gives one hundred percent of his attention to me. It’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Which is extremely unusual for a man like him. In fact, I don’t see his phone anywhere.

  “I’ll admit this isn’t exactly what I was expecting last night with my proposal.”

  His proposal, which I accepted, was simple.

  We agreed to get to know each other. To take things as they come and pretend we’re not gambling our futures on being discreet. He vowed not to lay a hand on me until I asked him to, but honestly, I’m not sure that’s a distinction that matters.

  Bottom line, I’m entering into some kind of personal relationship with a person whose product I have a direct hand in approving, or not approving, as a function of my job. If we’re caught, it won’t look good.

  To say I apparently haven’t learned my lesson is a big fat understatement. In all honesty, this is worse than what happened four years ago. Back then, I made a bad judgment call. One I didn’t think about for a second until it bit me in the ass. This time, it’s a premeditated bad judgment call. The idea of losing my job has even flitted across my mind.

  I don’t think that would happen, but still . . .

  The only thought that eases my guilt a bit is that I’m not the last word on approving his NDA. It’s Eleanor.

  “You’re having second thoughts?”

  I am. On the other hand, everything Hayden said last night was true. There’s something undeniable between us, and not exploring that could be an even bigger mistake than we’re making.

  Still, I admit, “And third and fourth and fifth ones. How about you?”

  Hayden runs a hand through his hair.

  “I did yesterday. But I plan to live in the moment for the rest of the weekend. We owe it to ourselves, to the incredible risk we’re taking, to at least do that. When you drop me off on Sunday”—a pit forms in my stomach at the thought—“we’ll at least have more information to decide on next steps.”

  I smile. “Karlene tells people who say they hate math and data to call it information instead. That just reminded me of her.”

  “So you guys are good friends?”

  As I talk, my nerves begin to settle. Hayden is right. What’s done is done. My one night away from it all has turned into our weekend away from it all.

  For better or worse, the decision is made. Best enjoy it while it lasts, seize the day and all that. Though the day isn’t the only thing I’d like to seize.

  22

  Hayden

  That was one hell of a car ride.

  I’ve ridden in cars with plenty of people in my life, many of them famous and/or beautiful, but this is the first time I’ve ever spent fifty-five minutes in a passenger seat feeling like I just won the lottery. I flipped a switch last night in that bar, and I refuse to look back. When we return to the city, I will tell Enzo everything. And hope he really meant what he said about being OK with whatever I chose.

  But I don’t think Ada is with me yet. Even though she’s relaxed over the course of the drive, there’s still some tension in the set of her shoulders. Which is understandable given the situation.

  “This is even nicer in person,” I say as we walk inside.

  “Wait until you see the spa. Growing up, we never actually stayed here, but we used to come all the time for the Mother’s Day brunch. The first time I stayed over was on a girls’ wine trip two years ago.”

  After we check in, I take our bags from the porter.

  “Lead the way.”

  A dining room gives way to a spacious great room. From here I can see the cottages dotting the landscape behind the lobby.

  “Oh wow. It looks like a little European village. Reminds me of Graubünden. With fewer mountains.”

  Individual cottages are positioned in a horseshoe with a small stream in the middle of them, spanned by an arched bridge. There are immaculate flowers and sculpted shrubberies as far as the eye can see. It’s idyllic and not at all what I was expecting from the quick look I had on my phone when I called to make the reservation.

  Ada’s peering down at a map she pulled from a display, but she glances up at my comment.

  “Where?” she asks.

  “It’s a German-speaking canton in eastern Switzerland. About two hours from my parents’ house in Lugano.”

  “I think it’s this way,” she says, pointing, and we leave the lobby and start walking toward one of the cottages. “What’s a canton?”

  “Like a state. There are four official languages in Switzerland. Graubünden is German-speaking, but Lugano, right next to it, is Italian.”

  Ada stops in the front of one of the cottages.

  “What’s it like? Switzerland?”

  I want to say, It’s beautiful, but not as much as you.

  Of course, I know better. She’s not the kind of woman to swoon at a cheesy remark like that. Even if I mean it. And I do.

  I settle for, “Incredible.”

  “So this is me, and you’re right next door. Which is pretty remarkable since this place is usually booked solid on the weekends. I’m still not sure how you managed to snag an extra night for both of us.”

  I wisely keep my mouth shut.

  “Meet me back here in fifteen minutes? I want to give my parents a quick call.”

  “Sure.”

  When she disappears inside her cottage, I get to work. We have dinner reservations in an hour right at the inn. Ada said the town is only a few blocks long, the main street small enough to explore in a few hours. So we’re saving that for tomorrow. Also on tap tomorrow, two nearby wineries, even though it’s not my drink of choice.

  I drop off my bags and head to the front desk. A few minutes later, with a champagne bottle and two glasses, I make my way back to Ada just in time.

  “What the . . .”

  She’s dressed in the same pink and brown sundress as before, her long hair still hanging in waves all around her shoulders like some bohemian sun goddess.

  “I know you wanted to show me around the resort before dinner. And I want to see it. But I thought we could sit and talk for a few minutes first.”

  “Um, where exactly?”

  Thankfully, I have an answer for that. One that, unfortunately, does not involve inviting her into my small cottage.

  “Apparently back here”—I walk from her cottage across the bridge, and thank God, she follows—“there is a little table tucked away in the corner. Ahh, there it is.”

  There’s a single wrought iron table, surrounded by greenery and flowers.

  “How did you know this was here? And where did you get those?” She nods to the champagne and glasses in my hand. “And what are we celebrating?”

  I put the glasses down, realize they won’t stand straight on their own—the table’s too tilted—and hand them to Ada instead.

  Pulling on the cork, I answer her questions.

  “The lovely woman at the front desk. The restaurant. And we’re celebrating two days of forgetting that you’re Ada the FDA employee and I’m Hayden the sponsor. Starting this very moment, you’re simply Ada, and I’m simply Hayden.”

  Ada yelps as I pop the cork. When she recovers and reaches out both flutes for me to fill, I’m encouraged.

  “Sound good?”

  She’s still hesitant, but I aim to change that.

  “Sounds good.”

  “A toast, then.” I put the bottle on the ground next to our table.

  “To a weekend getaway, good company, and a fresh start.”

  I would fetch a hundred bottles of champagne to see that smile again. Suddenly, I know this really is the right decision. We’re supposed to be here, together. I have never been more sure of anything in my life.

  “Cheers.” Ada clinks glasses with me, as I try to tamp down my expectations. There are more hurdles ahead than I want to acknowledge, but for now, I push those out of my mind.

  “Cheers.”

/>   As I stand outside Ada’s door for the second time today, I think about the last few hours. About the half bottle of champagne we shared, the long, luxurious dinner, and the quick visit to the spa store. I hadn’t thought about bringing a bathing suit for the site visit, but thankfully they had one. Or maybe not so thankfully. Ada suggested a dip in the resort’s outdoor hot tub, but I don’t know if I’m ready for Ada in a bathing suit. With any luck, it will be a one-piece.

  Her door opens.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I say back.

  “So did you find a suit?”

  “Nope. Hopefully skinny-dipping is allowed.”

  She freezes in her tracks. The path to the spa, which we’ll cut through to get to the outdoor hot tub, is illuminated by white lights, and I can’t think of a more romantic setting.

  Normally, I couldn’t care less for romance, but with Ada . . .

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Of course I’m kidding.”

  I hate the fact that she looks so relieved. “Would that be so bad?”

  Maybe it’s good I can’t fully make out her expression as we walk down the twinkle-lit path side by side.

  “No comment.”

  We pass through the now-empty spa, and if I thought the path was romantic, I’m much more impressed by what lies on the other end of it.

  “This place is incredible.”

  A huge outdoor stone fireplace climbs up the wall. On all other sides, ivy-lined trellises completely conceal the space from any lookie-loos. The “hot tub” is really a small natural pool surrounded by rock, which weaves through the space like a snake. Couples linger in niches carved out of curved corners. A waterfall on one side completes the effect.

  “That is not a hot tub.”

  Ada laughs. “It’s paradise is what it is. I’ve been thinking about this all week.”

  I sneak her a look.

  “Before I knew you would be here.”

  She’s got a good buzz on, her smiles coming easier than they did when she first picked me up. It took most of the night, but her guard has come down again. Finally.