“Thanks.” Even though he’s being lighthearted, I still feel my cheeks warm. It matters to have another history professional’s good opinion of my work, but it matters even more that it’shisfamily legacy.
“Let’s set a lunch date—meeting,” he amends when I flinch, “for Wednesday to go through the letter stuff. Meet you at the kitchen table?”
“I’ll be there with a premade salad.”
“Same but a frozen burrito.”
“Great. It’s settled.” I wave him toward the door withboth hands. Herding. Very border collie of me. So proud. “Go sleep some more or something.”Take your adorable bedhead with you.“I’m working on this presentation titled ‘Why the Board Should Say Yes to Everything in This Deck.’”
“Yes.”
I purse my lips to hide a smile and shake my head, shooing him again. When he saunters out, I hold my breath until I hear the back door close behind him, and then I heave a sigh of relief. The problem is that Jaywillsay yes to anything I propose, including between us, and I have once again barely escaped making an indecent proposal.
Well, not indecent.
But definitely unprofessional. Nothing could be dumber leading up to my first meeting with the board on which Jameson Martin sits … with Catherine Crawford watching.
Chapter Seventeen
Phoebe
I spendthe weekend practicing my presentation, running the numbers exhaustively, and breaking up all that brain work with episodes ofShark Tankto watch other people present. It might help more with whatnotto do, but it still helps.
When I walk out of my apartment Monday morning, I get a gut feeling to check my mailbox. Sure enough, I find another letter for Smitten Kitten. I stare at it in bewilderment. How did I know it would be here? Maybe it was wishful thinking.
I text Jay on my way out to my car.
Phoebe
A new letter this morning. On my way to work.
Jay
He’s waiting on the back porch when I park, a mug in each hand.
“Can we dive right in?” he asks, standing and moving aside so I can unlock the door.
“Only because you brought the right bribe.” I accept the mug he extends, and we head down the hall. “I’m almost going to be sad when the upstairs is renovated. I like my fancy library office.”
“You’re the boss. You can keep it here if you want.”
“Cannot. We must educate the public, and the public deserves this library.”
He salutes. “That’s right. Museum job and all.”
I set my bag on the desk, pull out the letter, and slit the end of the envelope. “Ready?”
Jay has taken his usual chair. Now he sets down his mug and rests his elbows on the desk, chin propped on his hands, and bats his lashes. “Yes, please, teacher.”
My stomach and brain give a shiver, and I sternly tell them, in my inside-my-head voice,You do not find that sexy.
They know I’m lying.
I pivot to the letter to save myself. I check the signature and the date. “Yours always, Dear Heart. December 8.”
“After Thanksgiving.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and starts tapping. “Escalating to ‘yours always.’ Go ahead. I’m listening.”
