“Yeah. I know you don’t have much time to discuss details now, but my committee is meeting on Sunday evening. I know it’s short notice, and I understand if you can’t make it.”
“No. I’m off on Sundays, so that’s fine.”
“Cool.” Slipping his cell phone from his pocket, he punched the keypad on the screen and handed her the phone. “Just input your contact information and I’ll text you the address.”
Once finished, she handed him the phone. He eyed it, typed something and then placed it back into his pocket with a mischievous expression.
Sizing him up, she tapped her chin. “What did you type to make you look at me like that?”
Snickering, he scooped his leather jacket up from a nearby chair and slid it on. Preston stepped into her comfort zone, but this time she didn’t have to stifle a gulp. Blythe decided if she was going to work with him on his project, she’d have to keep him even more at bay than usual. She couldn’t let him know that his presence unraveled her.
“I added your name to your number,” he answered matter-of-factly. “That’s all. Why? You think I’m always in bad-boy mode?”
“Uh...no.”
Pushing open the door, a few more ladies passed through while running their eyes over him, but his own eyes never left Blythe’s face. “Relax, baby girl. I can be nice. I’m not always naughty. Well...unless that’s what you want.” He bestowed a wicked smile on her and exited.
Blythe remained rooted in the middle of the lobby, oblivious to her surroundings, as she watched Preston through the glass door. He strolled casually to his black two-door Aston Martin and sped off as if he knew she was watching.
When she finally made it back to her paint session, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming weeks working on the Winter Wonderland project. She hoped her interactions with him would be minimal. If not, she had a feeling Preston was going to be everything but nice.
Blythe rode the elevator up to the third floor of the huge, updated industrial building on the outskirts of downtown Atlanta. The first two floors served as the offices of JP3 Chase Technologies, Preston’s company, and the top floor was his loft apartment. He’d sent a text message with the address and pass code to enter the gated parking lot and the building plus another code for his private elevator. He’d also asked her not to eat dinner because he was having the meeting catered by Q Time Restaurant, a family-owned soul food place that specialized in healthy, home-cooked meals. She’d frequented the eatery and was glad they were catering the dinner.
Once the elevator stopped, she shifted her oversize sketch bag and purse on her shoulder and waited for the doors to open. As she stepped out, panic seared through her veins and she screamed as a large golden dog charged her way and pounced its paws up on her shoulders. It licked her cheek in a sloppy kiss.
“Hope! Down, girl.” Preston commanded in a firm voice while grabbing Blythe to him by the waist and wiping her cheek with his hand. “I’m so sorry. She’s never done that before,” he said, eyeing the dog, who’d lain at his feet with a sulk. “She usually waits until I introduce her to people. Are you okay?” he asked in concern, sliding the huge bag from her and hoisting it onto his shoulder.
Blythe sighed in relief that the dog hadn’t bitten her and swiped her hand through her curls. “Oh, yeah. I just wasn’t expecting it. That’s all. But I love dogs, and I know golden retrievers are highly affectionate. So if she’s calm, I’d love to meet her.”
“Alright.” He patted his knee and the dog stood up. “Hope, this is Blythe. Blythe, this is Hope.”
Blythe smiled at the dog with warm brown eyes, who wagged her tail fast back and forth. Blythe petted Hope’s head, followed by a friendly ruffle. “Nice to meet you. She’s beautiful, Preston. How old is she?”
“Almost two years old and usually well-behaved. I feel bad she jumped on you like that.”
“No problem. I’m fine.” She followed him into the extravagant, contemporary-style loft divided with brick walls, enormous tapestry drapes and comfy seating areas. There was a huge, restaurant-type kitchen along a wall of windows, where two older women were preparing a delicious-smelling dinner that rumbled her stomach and reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Nearby was a wooden dining table that appeared as if it could hold twenty people. Hope walked alongside her master for a bit before she veered away and plopped on a huge dog bed in front of the lit fireplace. Preston motioned for Blythe to sit in one of the oversize gray chaise lounges that were the same size as a full bed, and he sat in the one opposite. Curling her legs underneath her, she was grateful for the warmth of the fire, because the temperature outside had dropped that afternoon and she’d forgotten her jacket.
“I’m fine, Preston,” she stated once more since he seemed still to be somewhat anxious over the incident. “No need to be upset with her.”
“No. She’s also a trained service dog and accompanies me to the children’s hospital. Hope is usually pretty calm around strangers, so there’s something about you she really likes, or you have doggie treats on you,” he teased.
Upon hearing her name, the dog’s ears perked up, and she set her eyes on Preston while rapidly beating her tail against the mat.
“So, where’s everyone else?” Blythe questioned. She’d arrived twenty minutes early because she wasn’t familiar with the area, but she assumed people would show up soon. Unless he’d only invited her, and she really hoped that wasn’t the case. However, Preston had always treated her with the utmost respect since she was best friends with his sister. Plus, he didn’t seem the type to lure women to his house.
“They should be here soon. You’re early.” He paused and nodded to the picture above the fireplace. “Do you like the painting?”
Gazing up, she realized it was one of her favorite abstract pieces that she’d painted. Wrinkling her forehead, she turned toward him. “Where did you buy that? I gave it to Tiffani when she requested some pieces for a couple of charity auctions.”
“The scholarship fund-raiser that Tiffani’s sorority had at the beginning of the summer. I’d wanted both pictures, but my cousin-in-law Elle outbid me. But that’s fine. I love this one more. It’s peaceful. I relax here after a long day with a brain tired from developing new game concepts and strategies. Staring up at the serene mixture of blues and greens is quite tranquil. It’s calming, and sometimes I need that. It gives my eyes a break from staring at computers all day.”
“Mmm-hmm. You definitely understand the mood I was in. I painted it after a peaceful time of unwinding and meditating. The one Elle won was the opposite with bold, daring colors and somewhat of a wild streak. I was listening to one of my Miles Davis CDs. The songs during his jazz fusion period. Insane, up-tempo jazz that made sense only to him, but I understood the emotions behind it. I’m almost surprised you like this one better. The other one seems more your speed.”
“Yeah, I know you think I’m all play, but I work hard, so I play hard. Live in the moment. It’s been my motto for a long time.”
She nodded in agreement, thinking of the wild stories Tiffani had mentioned about him. “So I’ve heard, playboy.”
He chuckled. “You know, I don’t really consider myself a playboy or a player. I just date and have fun. Women usually approach me. But eventually, I do want to settle down with a wife and have children. I was raised by two parents who have a loving, wonderful marriage. I want the same. Sometimes I go on one or two dates and realize the woman simply isn’t the one for me and there’s no point of wasting my time or hers. And for the record, I don’t sleep with every single one of them, but