least she’d have Gage by her side when she inevitably bumped into her ex-boyfriend Matthew. The thought of him smugly pointing out that she was as frigid as she’d always been irritated her.
She wished she didn’t care. Wished she didn’t want to rub her ex’s nose in her business success—and her relationship success—in spite of the label he’d given her years ago. But she did.
She was only human, after all.
Gage chose a fairly high-end restaurant downtown for dinner. With its black tablecloths and dim lighting, candles in the center of the table and à la carte menu, it was a touch more romantic than she’d counted on. Maybe she should’ve insisted on going home to change rather than continue in her casual work attire—if only to fit in with the well-coiffed crowd.
The host pulled her chair out for her and she sat, lifting the menu to study the options.
“Wine, Andy?” Gage asked. “Or should I call you something else in public to protect your secret identity? Bruce Wayne, maybe.”
“Ha-ha.” She lowered the menu to give him a slow blink. “I’ll stick with sparkling water, but thank you.”
When their waiter came by, Gage ordered a bottle of Cabernet alongside her sparkling water.
“We never finished the first drink we had together,” he pointed out. “Tonight would feel stuffy if we didn’t indulge.”
She did indulge—one glass had the rigors of her workday melting off her shoulders like butter in the hot sun. There was something about Gage that brought out her relaxed side. Maybe it was his own casual attitude. How he could wear a suit in a fancy restaurant as well as he did and still smile as genially as if they were lounging on his sofa together...it was beyond her.
Andy had accepted that she simply wasn’t the fun, carefree type. Outside of this agreement with Gage, she couldn’t imagine snagging his attention. And yet being around him felt strangely comfortable—which was probably why she didn’t hang around him at work. She didn’t want to be unduly comfortable and slip up—she had a job to do. She couldn’t pretend to be able to live up to his fun, easy-going standards. That simply wasn’t who she was. Except that she needed to be really comfortable around him at Gwen’s wedding for this charade to work.
After they’d eaten their dinners, they settled in to finish off the wine, Gage resting one masculine hand on the rim of his glass. He lifted it the same way and gestured to her with the stem.
“Let’s hear the plan.”
Was it any wonder he was fantastic at his job? He exuded confidence and charm, and if she were a twitchy CEO in search of a consulting firm, she’d buy an air conditioner from Gage in the wintertime. Just to urge forth that sincere, pleased smile.
To please him in general.
That thought brought forth another, one of pleasing him in a physical way. With her touch, with her kiss.
Alarming, since Andy had just tasked herself with keeping things between them strictly professional. Why did he have to be so damned attractive? Why did he have to be so damned likeable? Why did he act as if he liked her so much in return? That was the real lure. He seemed to like her just as she was—prickly and unapproachable, rigid and serious. She really wished he’d have let her pay him so the lines weren’t so blurry.
“I emailed you an itinerary,” she told him, firmly setting the conversation back on solid ground.
“When?”
“In the car on the drive over. Do you want to cue it up so we can review it together? It covers the schedule in detail, including what time each event starts and where we’ll be staying. I left your airline ticket at my apartment but I can bring it to Monarch tomorrow.”
“Those aren’t the kinds of details I need from you, Andy.”
“No?” She wasn’t sure what else there was. Unless... “I did type up a detailed family member list, but that seemed like overpreparing. If you and I were really dating, you wouldn’t necessarily remember all their names.”
“Those aren’t the details I need, either.” He shook his head, took a sip from his wine and swallowed.
When his tongue stroked his lip to catch a wayward crimson drop, she pressed her knees together under the table. His mouth might be the most distracting part about him.
“I need to know,” that mouth said, lazily pronouncing each syllable, “how much physical affection you’d like from me.”
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