“I see you redecorated,” Salvatore said, dumping her bags on the desk.
The windowsill looked clean and dust-free. The sloppy depository for old, fashion programs, now showcased Andrew’s travel souvenirs, and in the center was the squat violet plant she had brought with her. On her first day, she’d crammed it into the few inches of available space to catch a hint of sunlight. Now, it sat front and center, soaking up the rays streaming in from the window.
She fingered the plant’s velvety leaf when the reflection in the window changed from the city view to Andrew’s hunky body in the open doorway.
Gwen spun around to face him. “Did you do this?”
He held a tray with two coffees and his canvas workbag hung across his broad chest. “Yes,” he replied without emotion and put the coffees down. “Good morning, Salvatore. Can I help you with something?”
“No, no. I was helping Gwendolyn.”
“Really? With what?” Andrew asked.
“He just grabbed my bags for me.” Gwen moved in Andrew’s direction and his posture immediately relaxed. “I got the keys you left me.”
“The porters did that actually. They must have made them up this morning.”
“Andrew, this is so amazing. Thank you. But you didn’t have to do this alone. I would have helped.”
He looked down at her, ready to respond, but he glared at Salvatore instead. “Do you need me or Gwen for something? Because she and I still have a lot of work to do for your show.”
Salvatore’s leather jacket squeaked when he brushed his hand through his thick blond hair.
“Gwendolyn, are you free for lunch? I’d like to talk about what I mentioned last week.”
“What was that?” Andrew jumped in.
Gwen stepped back to watch these two elegant beasts size each other up. Salvatore had been needling to see her outside the office. She considered saying something to Enrico, but so far, the advances had been harmless.
With his acceptance of her, rearranging the office for her, and now the daggers he threw at Salvatore, Andrew shocked her. He’d had been working there long enough to witness Salvatore woo and wine many women in that office and must be protecting her.
“Actually, Salvatore...” Gwen wedged herself in the middle of the men. “Andrew and I are planning a kick-off meeting where we can talk about the theme for your show. I’ve already reached out to the art department to get a few samples of a logo I have in mind.”
“That is very proactive of you. Yes, I will look forward to your invite on the Outlook.” Salvatore stepped away eyeing the reorganized office and the desks gleaming with fresh polish. His light eyes moved back to Andrew, and he gave a formal nod. “Mr. Morgan.”
“Signor Corella.”
The designer shuffled out of the office, glancing back at Gwen. She gave a little wave, but Andrew closed the door before he could wave back.
“So, when is this meeting we’re having?” he asked.
“I have no idea.” She smiled at the cardboard tray he brought in earlier.
“Oh, I didn’t know how you take your coffee.” He pulled a cup from the tray. “I just got you a latté.”
“That’s perfect.” The cup warmed her chilly hands. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t be silly. It’s a coffee.”
Right. It didn’t mean a thing. Cleaning out the office for her, also nothing. Probably just making amends for his bad behavior on Friday.
After a sip, she scanned his side of the office. “Is this the same desk?” Either she grew a few inches wider or the desk was smaller.
“No, I downsized so you’d be more comfortable in here.”
“Andrew!” She put the cup down. “I said I would move.”
“I needed to declutter. It was a good thing for me.”
Gwen’s heart squeezed seeing her map of the world pinned up on the large cork board in the corner. On Friday, she’d left it rolled up and lying under her desk, knowing there would never be a place for it. “You hung my map,” she said pointing.
“Yeah.” He nodded, acknowledging what he’d done. “It’s great. I wouldn’t have thought to hang something like that in here. But we are a global brand. Manhattan can be so confining and feel so closed off.”
“It’s easy to forget there’s a big world out there.” She crossed to Andrew’s side of the office, where the map hung closer to his desk. Her fingers floated over the length of the Italian peninsula, settling on the base. “I’ve only been to south Italy.”
On a family vacation a few months after her mother had died, the remaining Mallorys landed in Naples, drove to Sorrento, stopping in Pompeii. They took day trips to Capri and drove up the Amalfi coast. It had been Elizabeth Mallory’s dream holiday. The family had kept her memory alive by taking the trip in her honor.
Milan, the landlocked city, seemed a world away. “What’s Meelano like?” Gwen asked.
“You don’t have to pronounce it that way around me.” He was close enough now, that even from behind, she sensed his intense heat. “My impression of Milan is, it’s New York, London, and Paris all wrapped up into one.”
“Have you been to Paris?” She turned around eager to talk about the city she loved.
He looked down and flattened his lips. “Uh, yeah.” His head hung a little lower. “On my honeymoon.”
Here we go again. One step forward and two steps back. Think, think. Draw him out. He doesn’t want to be sad. Make this about you, Gwen. “It’s a beautiful city. I lived there for a summer.”
He perked up. “Really? When?”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I took an art class there a few years ago. It’s a great place to vacation.
But living there, you feel as if you’re a part of the city, you know, walking among people as neighbors. You’ve stayed in Milan for extended periods of time, right?”
“Yes.” He sounded like the conversation exhausted him, but he smiled and said, “I’m sure you’ll get to Milan eventually.”
“You think so?” With their bodies inches apart, the trace of coffee on his lips with a hint of mocha was sexy as hell.
“Of course.” His height made her feel vulnerable, but excited. He watched her eyes, as his darted from side to side like he was searching for something to say next.
Damn, she liked being this close to him. A sizzle shot through her veins, and her body came to life, especially her nipples. Uh-oh.
“We have a lot of work to do,” he said while her stare lingered.
When he retreated, she looked down. The thrill she got from him put her arousal on display. She crossed her arms and ambled to her desk.
“Shall we?” He pointed to the clean and cleared-off meeting table.
“Sure.” She grabbed a spiral notebook and sat.
“Here are some notes.” Andrew showed her the printed emails she had sent with her press release ideas.
The red ink splashed all over the page made her sink in her chair. She reached out to take the pages back. “Wait, let me have another shot at this.”
His hand covered hers. “No, it’s fine. I just added some teasers in Italian.”