Hunter rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But I’m not a cocktail waitress. Come with me.”
Somehow he ended up buying the drinks while Hunter played barmaid, and then got cornered by the deputy chief of operations, who wanted to talk shop. Hunter and a couple of intermediates joined in. Beau propped his back against the bar and nursed his beer, keeping one ear in the conversation while he watched Savannah circulate around the room as Ashley introduced her to other members of the team. In a sea of soft lights and indistinct bodies, she glowed, like his personal beacon.
Safe harbor. The thought sprang out of nowhere, and spiked his pulse because he knew better. Yes, she was beautiful, smart, and funny. On top of all that, she possessed bone-deep compassion and instinctive generosity. If he let himself, he could fall hard for her.
Don’t let yourself, because you’re not the kind of man who can risk another fall. She’s leaving in a few weeks. Even if she weren’t, there are no safe harbors for you, and forgetting that is the most dangerous thing you can do.
Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
Converted gas lanterns overhead put a copper halo around her long, loose hair. She smiled, and laughed, and shook a dozen hands, but every so often those smoky eyes found their way back to him, and her polite, social smile turned into something else. Something that said, After this, let’s head back to your place and have a party for two.
Just like that, the anxiety subsided. This was the safe harbor. Their physical connection he could handle, no matter how urgent or overriding it might feel. He knew exactly how to satisfy those needs. His lips automatically stretched into an answering smile made of Hell, yes.
The deputy chief congratulated him on his engagement, and he forced his attention back to the men in front of him and said, “Thanks.” Then the older man pinned Hunter with a sharp look and asked when he planned to settle down. Beau patted his partner on the back and excused himself, ignoring Hunter’s silent plea for rescue.
He figured he’d have to track Savannah down, but when he turned, he nearly stumbled into her.
Her hands clasped his shoulders for balance, and then lingered, palms sliding down the front of the soft, light gray crew neck he’d worn specifically to entice her touch. Mission accomplished. He drew her in close. “Thanks for doing this. Socializing with my coworkers goes above and beyond the call of duty.”
She eased back and sent him her lopsided grin. “Are you kidding? Where else would I have learned about the time you neglected to secure the back doors of the ambulance, drove off, and dumped the gurney in the middle of the street?”
Assholes. “In my defense, I’ll mention the street was actually a driveway, the gurney was empty, and the doors on that rig never latched correctly.”
“Especially when you don’t shut them properly—so I hear,” she added when he glared at her.
“You can’t believe everything you hear. Not out of this crew.”
She bit her lip to keep from smiling, and the small gesture made him want to haul her back to the car, drive home, and spend the next several hours making her bite her lip to keep from screaming things like, “Oh, God. Right there. Yes. Yes. Yes,” at the top of her lungs. Manners probably dictated they hang out another ten minutes—fuck it, five minutes—just to be civilized. “Did you have your check-in with the gallery today?”
“I did.” Those bright blue eyes dimmed a little.
“And?”
“It went well. In fact, the manager told me if I weren’t going to Italy they’d sign me to an extended deal. Not just for the works I’m exhibiting at the showcase, but everything I produced over the next year.”
If I weren’t going to Italy. He liked the suggestion more than he ought to, especially because her departure represented their ideal exit strategy. “Why can’t you do both?”
“The fellowship is designed to support and foster undiscovered artists, not those actively promoted by a major gallery. Signing with Mercer to participate in the New Year’s Eve spotlight and exhibit a handful of pieces doesn’t qualify as being ‘actively promoted,’ but if I entered into a commission agreement of the scope Mercer’s proposing, I would meet the definition.”
“Could you defer the fellowship for a year, and see how things worked out with Mercer?”
She chewed her lip. “I could request a deferral. The foundation grants them from time to time, but I doubt they’d extend the courtesy on the basis of me wanting to see how my career worked out with a gallery that is, technically, a competitor.”
“I guess this comes down to one important question. How badly do you want to see Venice?” He meant the question as a joke, but his gut tensed.
“Ha. I spent a semester abroad during my MFA studying glassmaking techniques in Europe, so I’ve seen Venice. Lovely city, but location isn’t the primary draw. The fellowship offers a sure thing for the next nine months, which means a lot to me after the instability of the last few. It’s also a chance to reboot my career. I give up some autonomy, but the foundation features my work and presents me to a whole new level of collectors and buyers. Not a guarantee, of course, but a chance. ”
“Too good a chance to pass up?”
“Probably.” The little crinkle appeared between her brows, and he wanted to kiss it away. “I applied for the fellowship because my career here stalled. Hell, it tanked. But my pride hates to see me abandon Atlanta as a failure, even for something as coveted as the Solomon Foundation. Maybe the Mercer Gallery offer means I should stay the course?”
“What do you want to do, Savannah?”
Do you really want to know the answer? So what if she does want to stay? That’s a career decision. It doesn’t mean she intends to waste more time in a dead-end
…whatever…you can’t even call it a relationship, with a man who can’t offer her the kind of future she deserves.
She stared at him for a long moment, opened her mouth to speak, but then shook her head. “What I want for the future is too big a question for me to answer right now.” Her fingers danced over the back of his neck and sank into his hair. “Ask me what I want to do for the rest of the night.”