The next day, I come back to the hotel early. Well, right on time by normal standards, but I had to politely fend off a dozen offers of dinners, cocktails, anything that would keep me listening to pitches for another few hours. Not that I mind skipping out. I have a five-thirty date I wouldn’t miss for the world.
TWhen I enter the suite, Presley is on her laptop, her lips pursed in thought. Working, of course—both of us are always working. She looks up when she sees me, her lips curving into a grin.
I’m still not sure how I feel about what happened between us last night. I have the sense that I’m playing with fire and will most likely get burned.
But I return her smile, my lips twitching as I take her in—with her black leggings and oversize sweater and messy bun. She looks every bit the
