Page 29 of Worth the Risk
Maya is quiet for a moment. “Even if I do like you, there’s one glaring problem. You and your company want to destroy my community center.”
“I don’t want to destroy it,” I say quickly, then pause. “I want to find a solution that works for everyone.”
“But if you can’t?” Her eyes are steady on mine, demanding honesty.
I taste the scent of fresh coffee and old wood that’s become as familiar as my own office. “Then I have obligations I can’t ignore.”
Maya nods slowly. “I understand obligations. My entire life is built around them. To my father, to this community, to the promise I made when I took over Highland.”
“So what do we do about it?”
Maya is quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting to where Rosa is setting up for the senior lunch program. “We do what we have to do.”
There’s something final in her voice that makes my chest tighten. She stands abruptly, gathering her folders.
“I need to grab some additional financial records from storage. The utility costs from last year—they’ll help with your board presentation.”
I watch her walk toward the back hallway, noting the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s holding herself too carefully. Like she’s fighting something. Like she’s remembering what happened the last time we were alone in Highland’s storage room.
I should let her go. Should stay at this table, review the documents, focus on the board presentation that will determine Highland’s future. Should maintain whatever’s left of our professional boundaries.
Instead, I find myself following her, drawn by the same magnetic pull that’s been building for three weeks.
The storage room looks exactly the same as Friday night—narrow space lined with metal shelving, single bulb casting shadows, twenty years of community history. But everything feels different now, charged with memory.
Maya stands with her back to me, reaching for a box on a high shelf, and I’m struck by how this mirrors last Friday—the same position, the same careful distance, the same electric awareness crackling between us.
“Maya.”
She turns, still holding the box, and I can see in her eyes that she’s thinking about Friday night too.
“Did you need something?” she asks, but her voice has gone breathless.
“Yeah.” I step closer, close enough to smell her shampoo—something clean and citrusy that’s been driving me to distraction for weeks. “I need to know something.”
“What?” She sets the box down on a nearby shelf.
“When you said we do what we have to do—what did you mean?”
“I meant that we’re both trapped by our obligations. You to Pierce Enterprises, me to Highland. And that maybe we’re fooling ourselves thinking we can keep pretending nothing happened.”
She trails off, her gaze dropping to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes.
“Maya.” I step closer, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at me. “I can’t stop thinking about Friday night.”
Her breath catches. “Declan?—”
“I can’t stop thinking about the way you felt in my arms. The way you tasted. The way you kissed me back like you’d been waiting for it.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it too.”
“This is dangerous,” she whispers.
“Very dangerous.” I lean closer, my voice dropping. “But I don’t care anymore. I’ve been wanting to kiss you again since the moment we walked out of this room.”
Her lips part slightly, and I can see the conflict in her eyes—wanting this but knowing she shouldn’t.
“Declan, we can’t?—”
“Can’t what?” I trace my thumb along her jawline, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch. “Can’t admit that everything between us has changed? Can’t acknowledge that this collaboration stopped being just business weeks ago?”
