Page 40 of The Valentine Agenda

She knew this moment should frighten her. That facing him now, in this quiet lobby with traces of chocolate and sea salt still on their tongues, was dangerous. But when she turned, all her careful fears fell away.

James had stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. The scent of his cologne mixed with night air and ice cream sweetness. He reached up slowly, giving her time to step away, and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"I don't want to say good night yet," he said softly.

Hannah's heart thundered in her chest.

The kiss, when it came, was nothing like she'd imagined during all those lobby encounters. Not perfect or performed. Instead, it was achingly gentle, tasting of chocolate and possibility. His hand cradled her face like she was something that could break, or break him.

Hannah's fingers curled into his shirt, and she felt his sharp intake of breath. Everything else fell away—her careful walls, his perfect facade, all the reasons she'd told herself this couldn't work. There was only the soft press of his lips, the warmth of his hand at her waist, the quiet sound of appreciation he made when she kissed him back.

When they finally pulled apart, James looked slightly dazed, his usual polish completely undone.

"Tomorrow?" she whispered, surprising herself with her boldness. "Maybe we could—"

Something flickered across his face. "I have a work function tomorrow night."

Hannah started to step back, old instincts kicking in, but James caught her hand.

"Come with me," he said quickly. "Please. It's the Morrison's gala, a corporate thing at The Grand, formal, probably boring, but—" He used their joined hands to pull her closer. "I'd really like you to be there."

Hannah hesitated. A formal corporate event was exactly the kind of place she didn't belong. The kind of place where she'd feel invisible and awkward and—

But James was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered. Like he genuinely wanted to share his world the way she'd shared hers.

"Yes," she heard herself say.

His whole face lit up. "Really?"

Hannah laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months. "Really."

"I'll pick you up at seven?" His thumb traced circles on her palm, sending shivers up her arm. "Unless you want to meet there? Or I could—"

Hannah silenced him with another kiss. She pulled back to tell him, "Seven is perfect."

James looked properly wrecked now, his hair mussed from her fingers, his lips still parted in surprise. Hannah felt a thrill of power at affecting him like this.

"Seven," he repeated. Then he pulled her close for one more kiss, this one promising things that made her toes curl.

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

James

James adjusted Hannah's chair as she sat, hyperaware of how this moment echoed their disaster at Valentine's Day. But this was different. He was different.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly, meaning it in a way he never had before. Her dress was simple—probably not designer, definitely not expensive. He didn't understand how he had ever seen her as lacking in sophistication. Now when he looked at her, it only made the socialites around them look overdone.

Hannah smoothed her skirt, a nervous gesture he found endearing. "I feel a bit out of place."

"You're perfect." The words came automatically, but for once they weren't a line. She was perfect—not in the polished way of his usual world, but in a way that made everything else feel artificial in comparison.

He noticed the glances from his colleagues—the quick assessments, the subtle dismissals. The way their eyes slid past Hannah like she wasn't worth registering. It bothered him in a way it wouldn't have before.

"Park." A voice he recognized made him tense. Marcus Tran, the investor he'd been pursuing for months, was making his way toward them.

James's hand found Hannah's shoulder instinctively. "Marcus. Allow me to introduce—"

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