“Really?” It’s what I’d hoped for, but hearing Chase say it is another thing entirely.
“Yes, so how about we have lunch and then we can make a start?”
“Sounds like a plan, and I won’t let you down, Chase.”
“I know,” he says with a warmth that reaches his eyes and pulls me in so it almost makes me wish the agency didn’t have such strict policies. But at least I know where I stand now, and that will make it easier to resist every time he directs his gorgeous smile at me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chase
If the only goodthing that comes out of writing this damn thing is having endless excuses to be around Noah, it’ll be completely worth it.
Obviously, telling him that I’ll choose him as my agent takes a weight off his shoulders, but I honestly didn’t know he thought I’d pick anyone else.
He goes off to get his laptop so we can officially get to work after lunch, and that gives me a good few minutes to think about it from his perspective.
If someone who I was trying to go into business with tried to kiss me, and I flinched away so hard they felt like they needed to run away, I guess I’d have some doubts too.
So I’m glad that’s out of the way and hopefully out of his mind.
We spend a few hours in the library, talking about what’s normally expected in an autobiography. I grumble each timehe points out stuff that Gab’s autobiography had that wassimply brilliant, but it’s good-natured and Noah giggles every time I do, so I’m obviously not going to stop.
After a few hours, I have a handful of new biographies on my e-reader and Noah has promised to stay a few days more so we can figure this out.
But then we have dinner and I rejoice every second.
He talks about books like they’re the most fascinating thing to ever exist, and as words spill out of his mouth, he has me agreeing.
The passion and intelligence he speaks with is enough to have me creeping dangerously close to the line that separates infatuation and attraction frommore.
I ask every question I can think of, trying to extend our time talking, but soon enough we’re both yawning.
The reluctance I feel to separate has me opening my mouth to ask him to sleep next to me, or maybe for a nightcap, but I snap my lips shut and nod a wordless goodbye.
He’d for sure tell me no, and it would probably sting worse this time as well as make him uncomfortable.
Noah’s made his limits clear, and I don’t only have to respect that, but I want to.
Lying in bed, I come to the conclusion that respecting him and his choices doesn’t mean I can’t try to... woo him.
In small non-invasive and non-aggressive ways.
Like making sure his tea is exactly right the next morning when he joins me for breakfast.
Like thinking about a dozen more questions to ask him when we get back to brainstorming.
Like reading the damn biographies because I can obviously see it’s important to him that I do.
I start taking the project more seriously than I ever thought I would, even while I still feel like it’s a bad idea, like it’s all going to come bite me in the ass the way few things ever have.
“This one...” I show him the cover of the book I started reading last night. “Doesn’t really touch on any family ties. Is that why you recommended it?”
I know the answer already, but again, I love to hear him speak. Sure enough, he sits taller in the armchair by the fireplace and his whole face brightens.
“Actually, all of them are kind of like that, and they were all hugely successful.”
“That was clever of you,” I murmur, and a thrill goes down my spine at how pleased he is at the praise.