Page 16 of Christmas With A Billionaire

“Beautiful,”Edward murmured, camera clicking. “The connection between you is amazing.”

If he only knew. I could still feel Tyson’s warmth from this morning, and I couldstill see how he looked, sleeping beside me. Every time his fingers brushed my skin, energy filtered through me.

“That’s a wrap,”Victoria announced. “Thank you both. This piece is going to be spectacular.”

As the crew packed up, she pulled me aside. “Whatever is between you two,”she said quietly, “it’s special. Don’t waste it.”

I watched her walk away, her words echoing in my head. Across the room, Tyson was checking messages on his phone, his powerful frame drawing every eye in the room. He looked up, caught me staring, and smiled. My heart fluttered, and my wondering thoughts returned. Why were we doing this dance? Couldn’t we just admit that we loved each other outside of friendship?

Or maybe he doesn’t love me in that way. And friendship is all he sees.

That thought crushed me, but I didn’t stay in that headspace when I heard his voice again.

“Lunch?”he asked, crossing to me.

“Don’t you have meetings?”

“I rescheduled them.”

“Why?”

“We should discuss the next steps. Are you hungry?”

“I could use a bite to eat.”

“It’s my treat.”

“Well, that’s all you had to say.”

He laughed, and we left in search of food.

Chapter 7

Autumn

“You’ve been distracted all week, and don’t tell me it’s about the Stevenson collection.” Latisha set one glass of wine and a margarita on our high-top table at Lush Wine Bar.

I licked the salt off my rim and took a sip. “The magazine interview was... interesting.”

“The Art & Design feature? Girl, that’s huge. The whole museum’s buzzing about it.” She settled onto her stool, smoothing her geometric print dress. “Did something go wrong?”

“No, it went well. Too well, according to Victoria Maples.”

“TheeVictoria Maples? Editor of A&D?” Latisha crossed her legs. “Details. Now.”

“She kept making comments about Tyson and me. About our ‘chemistry.’” I took a long sip of margarita. “And the photographer?—”

“What about him?”

“He said we had an amazing connection. Like we were—” I shrugged.

“Made for each other?” Latisha raised her eyebrows. “Baby girl, everyone sees it. Last month, when Tyson brought you lunch, three docents almost walked into walls watching you two.”

“He was just dropping off contracts.”

“Please. That man owns a dozen luxury hotels and probably has an army of lawyers, but he hand-delivers paperwork to you?” She shook her head. “And don’t get me started on how you act when he shows up.”

“How do I act?”

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