Chapter Fifteen

Caitlyn stared at her watch as she shifted from foot to foot. This date had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she wondered if her surprise would be welcome. But with Damien due to arrive any minute, it was too late to back out now.

Admit it. I’m far too pushy for my own good.

She paced the sidewalk outside the entrance to one of the larger city parks. Beyond the trees, the open-air art festival she’d discovered was in full swing. The sounds of music and laughter drifted from the park as people streamed by her to check it out.

When she’d first come across the event listing online, it had seemed like such a good idea. But now as she stood here, she wondered if this was too invasive. Clearly the artistic side of his life was something Damien was very private about.

Too much too soon? Or will this be a fun night out for us?

She didn’t have much time to wonder, however, when hands snaked out to wrap around her waist.

“Hello, cupcake,” he purred in her ear.

Smiling, she spun in his arms. “Hey.”

“You look good enough to eat,” he said before giving her a hello kiss that made her fingers curl into his suit jacket.

“Mmm,” she said, pulling back. “Now you’ve got me wishing we were staying in tonight.” Her fingers slipped inside his jacket to run lightly down his sides.

“After you made me stop asking questions about this sneak date of yours? Not a chance.” His smile was wide before he leaned over to brush his lips across hers. “But tonight, behind closed doors, feel free to indulge in any way you want.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

And hope you’re still talking to me by then.

“So, what is the mysterious plan of yours?” he asked.

“I found a festival.”

He smiled. “Sounds fun.”

“For artists.”

The smile disappeared.

She held out her hands in peace. “I thought it might be interesting to check it out. They’ve got a few live bands scheduled, and some neat food trucks are coming in. We can take a time-out from business for the evening. What do you think?”

He glanced at the park entrance without saying anything.

“It sounded like a fun night online, but if you want to go somewhere else, we can do that, too.”

“No,” he said, not looking at her. “This was kind of you. Let’s go in.”

“Do you even like checking out other people’s art?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say as I’ve been in a gallery or museum recently.”

Her shoulders dropped. This was a bad idea. He was touchy about his sketches, and what did she do? Dragged him to an art event.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” she said, taking his hand. “I’m sorry. I thought this would be fun for you, but now it seems like a bad idea.”

He looked back at her, his eyes warming. “Come on” was all he said, using their clasped hands to pull her into the park.

Together, they walked through the trees to get to the central clearing farther inside. The music grew louder as they got closer to the rows of little artisan booths featuring the different artists and wares to sell.

Around them the crowd was already bustling. The festival was filled with all sorts, from families chasing little kids to elderly couples strolling hand in hand.

A smile touched her lips as she realized as far as anyone knew, they were just like the other festival goers. Just a normal couple enjoying spending some time together. How often did they get to pretend to be like everyone else?

She glanced at her partner and sighed at the stern set of his jaw.

“I just love your enthusiasm,” she said drily.

He blinked. “Sorry.”

Shaking her head, she pulled him toward the first row of stalls. The first artist worked with wood. The second sold small blown-glass sun catchers. By the time they’d finished the first row, Damien’s shoulders had started to relax.

“Not so bad, right?” she asked as they turned down the next row.

He smiled down at her. “Not so bad,” he agreed.

“Everyone is so creative here.” She glanced at the watercolors displayed in a stall as they passed by. “I used to love going to museums when I was younger. I never seem to find the time anymore.”

“Did you go often?”

She shrugged. “My mom liked to take me to distract me from the fact Dad was never home. We’ve probably seen every gallery in the city together.”

“Sounds nice.”

“I’d have thought with your talent you would have lived in museums, too, as a kid. Who knows, we could have even crossed paths.”

“Doubt it,” he relied. “We’d make an exception for the famous European galleries, but beyond that, art wasn’t respected in the Reid household.”

“That’s terrible.”

“We had other things on our minds. Not unlike now. The business always comes first.”

She sighed. “Yeah, but sometimes don’t you wish we had time for more in our lives than just business? You at least have a hobby. I just work and sleep.”

He pulled her closer. “You’ve made time for me.”

She softened against him. “I did.”

“Ever regret it?”

She reached up to brush the hair back from his forehead. “Not yet.”

A soft smile touched his lips as he watched her. “Good.”

Her heart thumped in her chest.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her along. “We’ve got four more rows.”

Smiling by his side, she followed his lead to the next stall.

…

Damien walked through the sea of happy people around him. Everyone was enjoying one of the last of the warm evenings before fall arrived. He had to admit that while it wasn’t the direction he’d thought this evening would go, he wasn’t hating it as much as he’d first thought he would.

When Caitlyn had been cagey about their date plans tonight, his mind had gone straight to dirty activities. Never had it crossed his mind she’d want to take him out to see art. This world wasn’t one he normally spent much time in.

At least, not when others are around.

“Art” had always been a dirty word in his family. A waste of time. A frivolous talent.

No one outside of a few teachers here or there had ever encouraged him. Certainly no one he’d ever cared about.

He glanced down at the curly redhead by his side. She was from the same world as he was. She should have mocked his sketches when he’d showed them to her, not stared at them in wonder.

What is she doing to me?

She was the first person who had made him feel like his hobby was something to be proud of, rather than something to hide.

“Oh, look,” she exclaimed, her hand tightening on his. “Sketches.”

He dutifully followed along as she pulled him into a stall filled with framed pictures created with charcoal.

“These are beautiful,” she said to the proprietor, who smiled at them as they ducked into the small space.

“Thank you. Feel free to look around. Let me know if you have any questions,” the man said before turning back to the piece he’d been working on.

He glanced at the sketches crammed into every available inch of space in the stall.

“Look at this one,” Caitlyn said, pointing to a forest scene. “These are gorgeous.”

He studied the piece over her shoulder.

“I can get it for you,” he offered.

She laughed over her shoulder at him before rising to her tiptoes. “I’d rather have one of yours,” she whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You can’t afford mine,” he teased.

“Hmm, perhaps I can come up with some sort of payment plan.” She pressed her body against his. “I wonder what it could be?”

He chuckled. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

Her grin was bright as she looked up at him. “Good. I want that one of the old man on the park bench.”

He arched a brow. “Not the one of you?”

A slow smile stretched her lips before she shook her head. “I want you to keep that one.”

As if he’d ever throw it away.

Waving goodbye to the artist, they moved away from the stall toward the next. As they checked out the different mediums, Damien felt the tension in his body drain away. Caitlyn was clearly anything but judgmental when it came to creative expression.

How is she real?

How did she grow up in the same world he did with such optimism still intact? Tonight, she smiled up at him without any guile or hesitation. Even he could see she was having fun, enjoying herself. Other women from their corporate bubble would have preferred a fancy dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant to a stroll through the park. But not her.

She’s making me different, too.

He never would have made time to see something like this otherwise.

The thought should have triggered his usual panic when he got more than a few weeks into an affair.

But this time, the feeling never came.

What is she doing to me?

Because whatever it was, he sort of liked it.

When they reached the end of the final row, she pointed toward the makeshift bar that had been set up near the band that was playing before some folding tables and chairs.

“I’m going to run to the washroom. Grab me a beer?”

“On it.”

He got their drinks in no time before finding an empty table on the edge of the temporary patio. The indie band wasn’t terrible, though he couldn’t help wondering if they’d ever achieve more than this sort of casual concert.

I could have had a completely different life.

If he’d gone to art school instead of business school, he might be a different person right now.

I never would have met Caitlyn.

That alone was enough not to miss the path not taken.

Listening to the music, he lost track of time before his date bounded back to his side.

“Sorry I took a bit longer than I thought. I wanted to get you something.”

The words had both his brows rocketing toward his hairline.

In Caitlyn’s hands was a brown paper–wrapped package. For him.

“I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a present,” he said before he could call the words back.

Her lips parted on a silent O before sympathy welled in her eyes.

“We need to get you to stop saying such sad things,” she said, taking her seat and pulling her chair closer to his. “I’m going to make that a priority.”

He shook his head. “The things I say aren’t sad.”

She pressed a hand to his jaw. “They are when you hear them.” Handing over the package, she pulled back. “I think we should work on making better memories for you.”

Taking the gift, he turned it over in his hands for a moment before ripping into the brown wrapping.

“I wasn’t sure you’d like it,” she said as he pulled a leather-bound sketch pad from the paper. “But I thought this place might inspire you to start drawing again.”

He flipped the book open and ran his fingers over the thick white pages within.

No one’s ever given me a present like this.

Aside from that one nanny, he’d always been the one to buy his own supplies. God knew his parents never would have lifted a finger to help develop that particular talent.

“Do you like it?” she asked, making him realize he’d been silent too long. “We can probably get it traded for something else if you don’t.”

He gazed at her, noting the way she shifted nervously in her seat. Something warm flooded his chest at the sight.

God, I’ve done nothing to deserve her.

Reaching over to wrap a hand at her nape, he pulled her forward for a kiss. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. Things he’d never be able to say. But maybe she could feel them instead.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her lips. “I love it.”

Her smile took his breath away. “Really?”

“Really.”

She let out a puff of air. “I was worried this night would be a disaster and you’d never let me plan a date again.”

“Crisis averted, cupcake.”

“Ah, sweet relief.” She took a sip of her drink, glancing around the little beer garden. “It’s such a pretty night.”

“Without you, I would have spent it holed up in my office working.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “My VP has to remind me to take breaks.”

“You think any of the people in this audience are Fortune 500 CEOs?”

She snorted. “I very much doubt it. Our competitors don’t really go for scenes like this.”

He gazed at her. “Their loss.”

She moved her chair even closer, so their shoulders touched. “It would have been my loss, too, if you hadn’t shown up on my doorstep months ago.”

He took her hand, running his fingers lightly over her palm. “Two weeks was as long as I could stay away from you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that hard to resist.”

“You are from where I’m sitting.”

Those big green eyes shifted his way.

“It wasn’t the chase, you know,” he said, brushing the pad of his thumb against her mouth. “This wasn’t about the rivalry or winning at something. I turned up at your house because I couldn’t stand thinking about you for another second when I could be touching you instead.”

She caught his hand in hers. “If you hadn’t shown up at my door, I would have ended up at yours eventually.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely. Don’t tell Shireen. She totally called all this.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

If only he could promise all her secrets were safe the way any other couple could.

The companies are a problem.

But what was the solution?

“So is yours. About the sketching, I mean.” Her fingers trailed over his jaw. “And just for the record, whether you want to be an artist or a CEO, I like any and all versions of you.”

His chest tightened. “Thank you.”

She melted in his arms as he caught her lips with his. The kiss was light, given the audience around them, but he couldn’t help needing to touch her.

Somehow the last woman he should ever want had become someone he dreaded to be without.

What a dangerous notion for a Reid and a Brooks.