Page 21 of Fighting Gravity

“Just wanted to apologize for the botched brunch.”

Rosie narrowed her eyes. “Why not just text me? Why come all the way up here for less than ten words?” Her sister didn’t have a driver’s license anymore. She either took public transit or had paid money she shouldn’t have for a ride-share.

“It’s not that far.” Her voice had gone sullen and her eyes had slid to the floor. She stood, slinging her small bag over her shoulder. “I’ll text next time.”

She walked out, leaving Rosie feeling defeated and confused once again.

12

Rosie had made beautiful strides with their hotel. Even Quinn wasoohingandaahingover the design. An accent wall with a Carl Sagan quote was a nice touch. But by the end of their meeting, Rosie hadn’t given any indication how she felt about their white-hot kiss at The Saloon. Not a lingering look or brush of skin, even by accident, during the entire meeting. She was the same sweet, attentive Rosie, but shuttered.

She hadn’t answered his text message, either. At the bar, she’d told him she wasn’t sure. But that kiss gave Tate hope. Her body’s reactions rang truer than her words.

“I say we celebrate tonight,” Chen was saying. “Really celebrate.”

Sure, because he hadn’t shown up to their actual after-launch celebration. “What do you have in mind?”

Quinn suggested Palm Springs while Tate watched Rosie’s face for any clues as to whether or not she wanted to join. Elle was teasing her about that very subject.

“Actually, I love to dance,” Rosie said, tone gently rebuking. “Just not with other people. I like to dance forme, because I enjoy it.”

He didn’t want her dancing with other people, either. Anyone else touching Rosie would be hard to watch, and watching was all he planned to do. Tate only danced when forced, and Rosie wasn’t the forceful type.

Quinn said her goodbyes and wished them luck. She was off to Paris for a product launch with one of their couture lines.

Tate fought a sigh. Nightclubs were crowded with the types of people he tried so hard to avoid. Women who studied him like a predator studies prey. The faces and names of his French cousins were more famous, and more notorious, but in places like L.A. and Vegas, and likely Palm Springs, somehow a few always knew who Tate was and what he was worth. At least in dollars.

Rosie didn’t seem to see him as a walking wallet. She just seemed to see him.

At least the jet would make their night out easy. They could be in Palm Springs within thirty minutes and back at the hangar just as fast. They wouldn’t even need a hotel. With the expectant faces looking at him, Tate gave in. “Let’s finish the day and meet back here at seven.”

The wind whipped around Tate as he waited on the runway behind the hangar. Chen arrived first, clad in black slacks, a subtle metallic shirt, and a shit-eating grin. He clapped Tate on the back.

“Thanks for agreeing to a night out, brother.”

“You’re welcome, buddy.”

Palm Springs was no skin off his back, really. Tate’s big Friday night plans had been with his couch and a new documentary. He needed to loosen up. The night out might even be fun.Or absolute torture.

He had just glimpsed a preview of the rest of his night, which consisted of exposed legs in sexy heels. Pink lace kissing long limbs. Flowing, fiery hair and the stunning face that haunted his every waking thought.

Chen let out a mumbled curse, shaking Tate out of his reverie. He hadn’t even noticed Elle, but she had transformed as well. The always professionally dressed planner had gone vixen with the daring dress she’d chosen. She looked fantastic. Chen’s hands were on her exposed skin immediately. Tate was instantly aware—and instantly jealous—of the stark difference between them.

Rosie’s nervous glances hinted that she’d noticed, too.

He drew her to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was going to feel quite so much like a couples excursion. Do you want me to see if there’s anyone inside who might want to join us?”

Her smile was open and sweet, like it had been the first time they’d met. As much as he loved any smile she bestowed, Tate preferred the unguarded rapture he’d seen on her face outside The Saloon. “Not necessary. It’s been so long since I’ve had a night out with friends. I can’t wait.”

Tate couldn’t help but thaw a little under her guileless gaze. He smiled back.

“Thank you for doing this,” she continued. “I can tell a night in Palm Springs isn’t your idea of a good time.”

“Typically it isn’t, but I’m happy if you are.”

For a second, her brows pinched. She pressed her lips together, tinted red tonight, and nodded. “Thank you, Tate.”

She turned to follow Chen and Elle into the jet, and Tate had to fight the groan that rose on his lips. Her entire back was exposed in her little lace romper. The outfit was tasteful, sexy, so very Rosie. But as he fell in step behind her, each of her delicate little vertebrae called to him. He had to fist both hands to keep from touching her. He wanted his hands on her bare back like he’d wanted nothing else in life.

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