Page 107 of When Glitter Meets Gold

“Is that bad?” I ask.

Jack shrugs as he scoops up items of clothing from different corners of the room and begins to dress. “Hemmingvale isn’t just an estate. It’s a place for fundraisers and charities. The left wing is entirely dedicated to a charity that supports improvements in STEM. Sure, there are other locations, but this place has history, and it does too much good to be lost to another country club.”

He buttons his shirt as he crosses the room, and when he reaches me, he slides his hands around my hip.

“Sara, I want to show you all the things I do, all my projects and plans. Everything. Hiring you was my way of showing you my world. My work is my life, and sure there’s a lot that comes with that, but being in a position to help charities and make a difference, makes it worth it. I was about to tell you about this place but then you…” He glides his hand up and down the zip at the side of my dress.

“Got naked?” I offer.

“Yeah.” He grins. “Very glad you did that, for the record.”

Then something about him shifts. He gets a little quieter, a little…nervous?

“What is it?”

“Remember right before I left you at the watch tower, you said you wanted a place to escape to?” He half chuckles.

I nod, wondering where he’s going with this. “I remember.”

“Well, I told you I found this place last year, but this isn’thowI found it.” Jack looks around the room. “It was just a place with tired magnolia walls and a couple of bean bags. You said you liked that wholeNancy Meyerstheme, right?”

A chill rakes up my spine. “Jack…you did this for me?”

“I mean, I had help from one of my assistants. I don’t know what the fuck a Nancy Meyers theme is.” He shrugs.

I laugh, shaking my head while my hands cover my mouth. “I can’t believe you remembered,” I say, surveying the room with a whole new perspective.

“For when you need to catch your breath.” He moves toward the bed, crouches, then pulls out a flat wooden case from underneath. He pops the catch. “For when you want to sketch.” I swear my eyes have never popped so far out of my head.

Inside are pencils, pens, and different sized and textured sheets of paper. My pulse quickens as he sets down the case then moves across to the nightstand and opens the top drawer. “Tea on the nightstand, wasn’t it?”

I move toward him, peeking into the drawer to see all kinds of herbal tea flavors in tiny individual wrappers. Holy crap, he rememberedeverything.

I look into the drawer one more time, shaking my head and grinning. “I can’t believe this. Is this real?”

He closes the distance, taking my hands. “Sara, I’ve never fallen this hard in my life. It doesn’t get more real than this.”

Every worry or care I had melts away. I could listen to those words on an endless loop.

“It is real, isn’t it…” I say more to myself as the comforting realization settles in.

He squeezes my hands gently. “Meeting you back on the trails was surreal for more reasons than I can list. But when you were lying next to me in that tent, talking about your life, about the bagel place, and sketching, and your herbal tea thing,”—he draws in a sharp breath, his massive chest expanding—“it didn’t take me long to realize I wanted to be a part of all that. I knew when I left you at that tower our story wasn’t done. I knew fate wouldn’t be that cruel.”

I hold his gaze, pressing my lips together to distract myself from the lump that’s formed in my throat. The twinge in my body is still there, even though we’re not even having sex... And I wonder, if perhaps what I’m feeling has nothing to do with how much Jack physically turns me on. Maybe what I’m feeling runs much, much deeper.

“I want you to be part of all that too.” My voice comes out as a whisper. “I…just want you.”

He kisses my forehead, and laughs. “You have me, Sara. You’ve had me the whole time.”

When we eventually drag ourselves from the twinkling bubble of the guest house, Jack slips off to talk to a few old friends while I search for Francis near the lobby. He’s going to be so mad at me for not texting him.

Finally, I spy him. He’s swirling a martini glass as he strides over to me, aggressively dragging his teeth along a cocktail stick of plump, green olives. He chews violently before eyeing me from head to toe.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Searched all over this creepy old place.”

“I’m so sorry, I was…” I scramble to construct a sentence that doesn’t involve Jack or the details of yet another earth-shattering orgasm.

“Save it, I knowwhatyou were doing.” Francis flicks invisible hair over his shoulder as he gives me the once over. “Or should I saywho.” Before I can protest, he’s using his free hand to smooth a section of my hair. “I mean you could’ve at least done something about your bed head before you re-joined the party.”

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