The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,621

especially on Friday nights. It’s just not conducive to a business meeting.”

“Were candles and wine really necessary?” I’m standing in his doorway now.

“The catering company did all of that,” he says with a shrug. I think I believe him. Hunter used to hire a caterer sometimes for our hosted dinner parties, and they’d do the same thing with the candles and the wine. “Would’ve been the same way at the restaurant.”

True.

“Anyway, I hope you don’t mind. I got you the petit filet with the gunpowder crust,” he says. “Side of scallops.”

I always used to order that exact meal from Maestros.

“How’d you know I like those things?” I ask. I still haven’t taken a single step.

“I didn’t.” He makes his way to his dining room table, lifting the cloche from his plate. “Figured everyone likes either seafood or steak, so I got you both just to be safe.” Jude’s green gaze lifts toward mine. “You’re not a vegetarian, right?”

I shake my head and his mouth curls at the side. He’s so casual, so natural around me, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve known him longer than I have.

“You going to come in and eat?” he asks. “Or you just going to stand there like I’m Hannibal Lecter about to serve you braised brain and Chianti?”

“Sorry,” I say, finally closing the door behind me. “I guess this just wasn’t what I was expecting. A little taken aback.”

“If you want, we can ditch this entire thing and go grab a slice of pizza?” he offers. “I’m just as comfortable talking business under fluorescent lights.”

There’s something fascinating about Jude, something contradictory in the way he looks so high brow but speaks to me like the boy next door. He wears Gucci shoes but cracks lame jokes and doesn’t take anything seriously. He smiles at me constantly, and it isn’t a creepy smile, but one that makes my heart do the tiniest somersaults sometimes.

The way he acts completely challenges the way he looks, and I’ve never met anyone like him. Didn’t even know guys like him existed, least of all in the Upper East Side.

“No, this is fine.” I take a seat across from him, lifting my cloche and placing it aside. The familiar peppery scent of the seasoned steak fills my lungs and for a moment, I glance across the candlelit table and see Hunter seated across from me. My stomach knots until Jude’s face comes into focus. I’d take him up on that pizza offer, but he already put so much thought and planning into this dinner.

“All right, so tell me about your business,” he says, rising over the table to pour our wines.

Sitting straight, I say, “It’s a not-for-profit organization called Agenda W. We’re aimed at helping women get on their feet and find financial independence.”

His lips press together and he nods. “All right. I like that. Continue.”

“We’ll offer scholarships, resources and referrals, childcare for women attending job interviews,” I say. “We’ll have a clothes closet for women needing professional wardrobes as they look for jobs. Basically, in my mind, it’s a one-stop shop where we can help women rise up, find freedom in their independence, and take care of themselves and their families without relying on anyone or anything else.” I pull in a deep breath as the candlelight flickers against his face, lighting a glint in his green eyes. “I know places like this exist all over the city and I know I’m not bringing anything new to the table, but I don’t think it’s possible to have too many of these. One more is one more, and that’s a good thing.”

“Agree,” he says, brows meeting. “And how are you funding this? Donations?”

“It’ll be fully self-funded,” I say, not wanting to get into specifics. I’ve already spoken with my accountant, who confirmed that the interest from the first year of my alimony alone would more than cover start-up costs and should sustain us for the foreseeable future.

He doesn’t act surprised, doesn’t show a hint of disbelief. “And what about staffing?”

“We’ll start with the basics,” I say. “A front desk person, a counselor, a social worker, an education advisor, a childcare provider. We’ll add as we grow.”

Jude slices into his steak. “It sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“I know,” I say, “but I keep feeling like I’m missing something. Kind of just winging this thing.”

“You’ll need liability insurance, payroll,” he says, pointing his fork. “And a marketing plan. Some PR, too. But this isn’t really what I