The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,622

do, Love. Typically, I guide companies toward decisions that help place them above their competition and optimize their profitability. You’re not-for-profit. Competition isn’t a thing for you. Your biggest hurdle will be spreading the word and making sure everyone knows who Agenda W is and what they do.”

He speaks with confidence, shedding his boy-next-door-ness and switching into the skin of a businessman with the unstoppable ability to make difficult decisions and get results.

I’d be lying to myself if I ignored how sexy that is.

“I really appreciate this,” I tell him, forking a tender scallop. “I know this isn’t your area of expertise, but just knowing I have someone to talk to about this takes a little bit of the pressure off. I mean, I have Tierney and she runs her own business, but she inherited it from her aunt. She knows nothing about starting from scratch, you know?”

He nods, reaching for his wine glass. “I’m happy to help anyway I can, Love.”

Jude smiles before taking a sip, and I relish the way he says my name, so soft, so natural, like it belongs right there on his tongue and on that full mouth of his.

He’s disarming me like a bomb technician dismantles an explosive, with the kind of skill and patience that make it seem natural and easy.

I need a deep breath.

I need to look away.

I need to harden my resolve and stay strong and not get swept up in this man’s charms.

“Anyway,” I say, “I’ve got a meeting with a graphic designer next week to go over logo mockups …”

I take the wheel of the conversation, ensuring we’re headed in the right direction, not stopping for any non-business-related detours, and by the time we finished dinner, I’ve managed to bring us safely to our final destination.

I’m not sure what time it is, but the city view from his window is aglow with a full moon, cherry-colored traffic taillights, and Central Park street lamps. Rising, I take my wine glass and head toward the picturesque view, the same one I have from my bedroom as our apartments must intersect, wrapping around this corner of the building.

“We share this view, you know,” I say, only he wouldn’t know. He’s only been in my place once, and I had my bedroom curtains drawn. “Isn’t it incredible?”

Hunter always wanted to live in the trendier neighborhoods with the younger crowd. Once when I brought up living uptown, he scoffed at me and told me I had terrible taste in locations. So of course, as soon as the divorce papers were served, I called up my real estate agent and had her find me the perfect place with a view of Central Park.

“It is,” he says, taking the spot next to me. “A million-dollar view reserved only for the fortunate few.”

The tiniest hint of resentment lies in his tone, and he shakes his head as he stares out the window.

“We’re lucky,” I say. “That’s for sure. We didn’t have views like this back in West Virginia.”

I wait for him to ask me something personal, but a question never comes. And actually, this entire night he’s yet to divert a single conversation into a “getting to know you” session. It’s like he’s actually respecting my “this is not a date” stance.

Exhaling, I fight a smirk before hiding it in my wine glass. I don’t even think I could find something to dislike about him if I tried. He’s polite, professional, and charming, and I’m one hundred percent at ease with him.

But I can’t help thinking about that old cliché my mother used to say all the time. “If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

Jude is absolutely too good to be true.

And maybe that’s the thing I should dislike about him?

No one is this perfect, this flawless. No one’s this kind and this genuine and this easy to be around and ridiculously attractive on top of it all.

Feeling the heaviness of his stare, I turn and glance up at him.

“What?” I ask, not knowing how long he’d been watching me. It’s been a long time since anyone looked at me like that—studying me like I’m some fascinating creature, drinking me in like I’m a sight to see. “What are you thinking about right now?”

He smirks. “Nothing.”

Rolling my eyes, I bump my elbow into his arm. “Right. So you’re staring at me and thinking absolutely nothing.”

“People can do that, you know,” he says. “Just like they can throw coins in a fountain for no