Page 2 of Christmas With A Billionaire

I sucked in a breath.

“But I need Chicago’s finest curator for a project at the Benefield, and I need my best friend to help me make sure I don’t mess it up.”

“What kind of project?”

“I want to feature local artists throughout the hotel. Something similar to what the Art Institute is presenting but in a more prominent fashion. I need a curator with vision, someone who understands the art world and the soul of this city.”

“And you thought of me?”

“I always think of you.” The words hung between us, heavy and charging.

I sucked in a breath. “Come with me.”

Inside my office,I gathered my things while he made himself comfortable in the chair across from my desk. It struck me how natural this felt—him in my space, the easy back-and-forth we’d perfected over decades.

“Tomorrow is Daddy’s retirement party, remember?”

“Perfect timing. I’ll pick you up at seven, we’ll make an appearance at Uncle James’s party – you know he considers me family anyway – and then we’ll discuss my project over dinner.”

“You’ve got it all planned out, don’t you?”

“When it comes to you? Always.” His eyes held mine, filled with something that made my heart skip. “Wear that red dress you showed me last month. The one you said was too bold for a museum opening.”

“You remember that?”

He stood, closing the distance between us. His fingers brushed my cheek as he tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “I remember everything about you. That’s what best friends are for.”

“Seven o’clock sharp,” I said. “Don’t be late.”

“Have I ever let you down?” He backed toward the door, that signature smile playing on his lips.

“Not once in twenty years.”

He was gone before I could say more, but his presence lingered – in the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of tomorrow night. I touched my cheek where his fingers had been, allowing myself to wonder what it might be like to cross that line we’d drawn so carefully all those years ago.

Then I gathered my things and headed home, trying to convince myself that the flutter in my stomach was just anticipation for Daddy’s party, not the thought of Tyson Benefield in a perfectly tailored suit waiting to take me to dinner.

Chapter 2

Tyson

Ipulled up to Autumn’s Hyde Park apartment at six-fifty-five, killing the engine of my Range Rover. The gift box on my passenger seat held a bottle of James’s favorite bourbon – a spirit he would welcome to receive. Snow dusted my shoulders as I strolled to Autumn’s door, my polished dress shoes leaving tracks in the fresh ice.

My knuckles barely touched her door before it swung open. The sight of her stole my breath. That red dress draped her curves like it was made for her, stopping just above her knees. Her hair fell in soft curls around her face, and a hint of gold shimmer highlighted her cheekbones.

“You’re early,” she stepped back to let me in, and the scent of her jasmine perfume wrapped around me.

“You’re stunning.” The words came out before I could filter them, but I didn’t regret it.

She smoothed her hands over the dress. “This old thing?”

“Don’t play modestly. You know exactly what that dress is giving.”

Her laugh filled the space between us. “Help me with this?” she turned, exposing the smooth skin of her back where her necklace clasp waited.

My fingers brushed her neck as I fastened the gold chain. “Your mother’s necklace?”

“Seemed right for Daddy’s big night.” She turned back to face me, too close and not close enough. “You clean up nice yourself.”

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