“The pleasure was all mine, Preston Winslow.”
He held out his hand, and she braced herself before clasping it. She knew her palm would fit against his like their hands had been made to hold one another, and she knew it would weaken her resolve to say goodbye. She reached forward and his hand met hers, joined with hers, melted into hers, warm and strong, pumping gently before letting go too soon.
“Until we meet again,” he said, his intense green eyes seizing hers for a long moment before he turned quickly on his heel and walked away.
Elise watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore, and only when he was finally out of sight did she realize they never actually said goodbye.
Chapter 4
Preston walked the remaining thirty blocks to his apartment feeling a little dazed and not at all himself. He’d just found and lost the most amazing girl in the world, all within the course of an hour.
He’d never felt this way before, never experienced this painful pull in his heart to return to the place he’d left her and throw pebbles at her window until she came back downstairs. Preston had believed himself a pretty smooth operator before tonight, but he’d been leveled by a farm girl from upstate New York. How had it happened? And why?
She was beautiful, yes. But after walking with her and talking with her, he was fairly certain that her beauty was enhanced by something inside of her. It made her eyes shine and softened her face, it sweetened her smile and made her words sincere. There was an authenticity about her, a purity that appealed to him. She wasn’t over-eager or grabby with him. If anything, she was more reserved than most of the women he knew, which made him long for the thrill of chasing her, deserving her, belonging to her. It was completely absurd after an acquaintance of sixty minutes, but he couldn’t help it and he wondered…
Can your whole life change in sixty minutes? Can you say goodbye forever to someone wonderful just because the timing’s bad? Can your head force your heart to move on when it clamors for more wet-sidewalk, misty evening, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other magic?
It was times like these that Preston sorely wished his mother lived in the States and not London, where it was three o’clock in the morning. Or—if he was truly honest with himself—it was times like these that Preston longed desperately for his father: a man who had deeply loved a woman. A man who’d listen and give him advice and wouldn’t make fun of his sudden and intense feelings.
But his mother was in London. And his father was long gone. Brooks, his oldest brother, was in South Africa training the national team for their first bid as the America’s Cup challenger, not that he would have been much help. His nomad ways hadn’t left much room for a girlfriend over the past few years. That left Cameron, who was hot-headed and apt to piss off Preston more than help him, Jessica, who was just a kid, or Christopher, who was Preston’s youngest brother, but also the most sensitive of the bunch.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Christopher’s number.
“Pres?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, man…what’s going on? It’s, uh, after eleven.”
“On a Saturday. Don’t tell me you were sleeping.”
“Nope. Definitely not sleeping.”
Preston winced. Shit. “Forget it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No, no, no. Hold on.” Chris asked someone to “give him a few minutes,” and though Preston couldn’t make out her muffled reply, he could tell she wasn’t happy. A few seconds later, Chris was back on the line. “Okay, well, that’s that. Tell me what’s going on with you?”
“You’ve got company.”
“Had company.”
Chris lived in D.C., an intern for the junior senator from Pennsylvania, and from the stories Chris told, the female pool of Capitol Hill staffers was not immune to his boyish good looks.
“Oh, crap. I’m sorry, Chris.”
“I’m not. She was cute, but really conservative. It was going to be a long night of rhetoric. Now I have plenty of time to catch up with my brother.”
“She left?” Preston shook his head. He’d totally just cockblocked his little brother from getting into some Republican panties. “Go after her. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Forget it. She’s already gone. What’s on your mind? How’s your internship going?”
Preston worked twenty-five hours a week for one of the hottest sports lawyers in New York, an arrangement his father would have approved of. He was hoping to get a job at the same firm once he passed the bar.
“Good. But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“What’s her name?” asked Chris after a short pause.
And this was why Preston had chosen to call Chris. Because he was as perceptive as a summer day was long.
“Elise.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s an actress.”
Chris whistled low. “Damn, but you’ve always aimed high.”
“An off-off-Broadway actress.”
“Huh. Okay. Wasn’t expecting that.”