Page 23 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"Nobody important," I called back, hating myself for the lie but knowing I had no choice.
I walked back to the kitchen, where Lauren was helping Chrissy drink from her sippy cup while Elena and Sammy entertained themselves by throwing pieces of chicken at each other.
"Can you do me a huge favor?" I asked Lauren. "Would you mind giving them their baths and getting them ready for bed? I have a quick errand to run."
Lauren studied my face, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the rose in my hand. "An errand? At seven o'clock at night?"
"I'll be back in an hour."
"Ivy Whitmore." Lauren stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're practically glowing, and you're holding a rose. What's going on?"
Heat crept up my neck. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing. That's the face of a woman who's about to do something either very stupid or very romantic." She grinned. "I'm hoping for romantic."
"Lauren…"
"Fine, I'll watch the kids and get them ready for bed. But I want all the juicy details when you get back."
I kissed each of my children on the forehead, breathing in their sweet, innocent scents. "Be good for Lauren."
"Bye-bye, Mama," Elena said, waving her tiny hand.
I slipped out the front door and made my way around to the backyard, staying in the shadows cast by the tall oak trees that lined the property. The sun had begun to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, and the air carried the scent of jasmine from Mom's flower beds.
As I approached the apple tree, I saw that Duncan had been busy. A soft blanket was spread on the ground beneath the branches, and he'd arranged a small bouquet of flowers—roses, jasmine, and baby's breath—beside a bottle of wine and two glasses. His phone sat on the edge of the blanket, playing soft jazz that mixed with the evening sounds of crickets and rustling leaves.
He looked up as I approached, and the expression on his face stole my breath. There was tenderness there, and hope, and something deeper that I didn't dare name.
"You did all this?" I asked, gesturing to the romantic tableau he'd created.
"I wanted tonight to be special."
I sat down on the blanket beside him, careful to maintain some distance between us even as every cell in my body urged me to move closer. He poured wine into both glasses and handed one to me.
"You're doing an incredible job at work," he said, raising his glass. "I hope you know that."
"Thank you." The wine was smooth and rich, warming me from the inside out. "I'm trying my best."
"I want to keep you on permanently, if you're interested. We can discuss the details later, but I wanted you to know that I think you're invaluable."
The praise made my cheeks warm. "As long as we can keep things professional at the office, I'd love to stay."
"Professional," he repeated, and there was something in his tone that made me look at him more closely.
"Duncan, we can't complicate this. Not at work."
"I know." He took a sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving my face. "But sitting here with you now, away from the office, away from everyone else—it's hard to pretend I don't feel what I feel."
My pulse quickened. "What do you feel?"
"That you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. That I've missed you every day for the past four years. That being in your presence makes me remember what it feels like to be alive."
The words washed over me, each one a small shock to my system. I wanted to believe him, wanted to let myself fall into the fantasy he was weaving, but the rational part of my mind screamed warnings.
"Tell me about Bar Harbor," he said, apparently sensing my internal struggle and changing the subject. "You mentioned you did an internship there."
The safer topic allowed me to relax slightly. "I worked for a small nonprofit that focused on marine conservation. It was incredible—I got to help with research projects, work with local fishermen, spend time on boats documenting whale migrations."
