International Player(21)

“Those kids at the rehab center really need our help. If I mess this up—”

“Those kids are the reason you’re not going to mess this up. They’re the reason we went through the presentation a thousand times yesterday. Stop trying to find a way out. Focus on how much preparation you’ve done, and how you know this place better than anyone in that room will. You have it down.” He grinned, and the pulsing in my ears relented and the corners of my mouth turned up. How did he do that?

“Right, I got this,” I whispered.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he said.

“Better than what?”

“That sad little smile. These donors want happy, upbeat, and smiley.”

I rolled my eyes. “In other words, they want my sister.”

“I’ve never understood why you always think Abigail is more capable than you at everything.”

Wasn’t it obvious? “Because she is. We are the exact opposites. She’s—”

“Yeah, you’re very different. But you’re not worse than her at everything.”

It was obvious that he was trying to boost my confidence, build me up. But he wasn’t going to talk me out of knowing how my sister and I compared. I had a lifetime’s evidence to fall back on. “No, you’re right. I have an affinity for spreadsheets that she doesn’t share, and I can wipe the floor with her in a pub quiz as long as it doesn’t have too many reality TV questions.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

That was the point. I got it and I was fine with it. “Can we just focus on this meeting?”

He took a chair opposite my desk. “Do you have the printouts?” he asked.

I tapped the stack of papers at the end of my desk.

“So, you’re focused on your five goals for today?” His tone was stern and authoritative, and if I hadn’t been so nervous, I might have let my mind wander to whether or not he was like that in bed.

“Smile and eye contact,” I said, reciting the first thing Noah was having me concentrate on. “That really should be two. Because they are completely different things. You can smile without eye contact and make eye contact without—”

“Truly,” he growled as my voice climbed higher and higher. “Be calm. What’s next?”

“Don’t choke.”

He chuckled but I was serious. “And you’re in the meeting, why?” I asked.

“To make sure you don’t choke.”

“Funny. But seriously, how are we going to explain why you’re in the room?” I checked the time. People should be arriving any minute.

“We should just be honest.”

“You think we should tell them that because I’m incompetent at dealing with people, you’re sitting in on the meeting in case I have an anxiety attack?”

“Get up,” he said, as he stood and rounded my desk.

I frowned but did as he asked. He kicked my chair away and walked behind me. “Great outfit,” he said, and I’d have sworn, if I didn’t know better, he was checking out my arse. “Is this what the stylist sent over?”

This pencil skirt seemed far too tight and the shirt—I mean the green silk was beautiful. But it was far clingier than I was used to. I was sure to spill something down it before the end of the day. “I feel like I’m dressing up in someone else’s clothes. Do I look ridiculous?”

“Anything but. You look great.” He swept my hair in front of my shoulders, and I tried not to shudder. Touching me wasn’t part of our deal. What was he doing? He brought his hands to my neck. “Christ, you’re as tight as a drum,” he said as he began kneading his fingers into my bunched muscles.

“What are you doing?” His touch had me stiffening instead of relaxing. He didn’t touch me. That wasn’t the kind of friends we were. Was he trying to force me further out of my comfort zone?

He pressed my shoulders down. “Just relax and let me loosen some of this tension.”

“I really don’t think . . .” I sighed. His fingers felt good. They were distracting and firm, and as he worked, the scent of fresh laundry and lemon body wash hovered around me and I gave in. My shoulders dropped and my mind washed free of anxiety. I shouldn’t be letting him touch me. I was supposed to be keeping him at arm’s length, not allowing myself to think of him as anything but a colleague. I didn’t want to go backward and be that girl with an unrequited crush. But right now, I was saving my fight for the boardroom.

We stood in silence as he continued to knead the knots he found.

“When you let yourself relax,” he whispered into my ear, his warm breath floating against my skin, “you’re better able to focus.”

Noah released my neck and slowly smoothed his hands down my arms when someone knocked on my door. “You’re going to be great.”

Great? I’d be happy to get out alive, but I was so dizzy from Noah’s touch that I’d forgotten to be anxious.

“Remember, you know this foundation inside out and back to front. You understand the charities you help and you care about them deeply. Just be yourself.”

As he spoke, I still felt the echo of his hands, and the noise in my head continued to remain at a distance and my breathing stayed even. Maybe this meeting would be okay.