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I adjusted the front of my tuxedo pants and slid in beside her. "No one will notice me. They'll all be looking at you. I'm starting to think I should have brought a baseball bat or a tennis racket. To keep other men at bay." I closed the door behind us with a thump.
"I didn't think you intended to play a sport at the party," she said with a laugh. "You play baseball?"
"Not since I was in school," I said. "I was never very good at the team sport aspect, but I could hit a mean ball with a bat."
"Are you any good at tennis?" she asked.
"If I say yes, will you think I'm a terrible cliché?" I cringed. Before she could answer, I said, "I'm not bad at tennis, but I prefer squash. It's a lot less pretentious than the tennis club. Don't tell my mother I said that. The tennis club is one of her pride and joy places. The more pretentious, the better."
"She won't hear it from me," Lexie said. "I've always been better at playing sport on a screen. Especially racing games that involve swerving to collect fruit."
"You're a gamer?" I asked.
Her body stiffened slightly. "Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Not at all," I said quickly.
I closed my eyes for a moment and added, "It's another thing I haven't had much time for. My brother and I used to game together before we both got busy. Now… I'm not sure I remember how."
"I could teach you?" she offered. "I mean, I have a gaming console. If you wanted to, you know. After the party."
"I look forward to collecting fruit," I said. "In fact, that might be what gets me through the rest of the night. That and spending it with you."
Her smile made my balls ache like crazy.
"It's not too late to ditch the party," she suggested.
"As tempting as that is," and it really fucking was, "we spent all this time getting dressed up, we might as well be seen for an hour or two. Besides, I'm sure you'd like to meet Tyler Quick. It seems like the whole world is talking about her right now. According to my brother, she might make an appearance tonight."
Lexie's eyes widened. "When you put it that way, I guess we could be seen for an hour or two. But only so your mother doesn't get mad at you. I'm not saying I don't want to meet her, but that's not why I'm here."
"Why are you here?" I couldn't resist asking. "Is it just for the contract? I was going to renew it anyway, for the record. If you want to change your mind and walk away, I'll understand." I had no doubt she had more interesting ways to spend the evening than with someone like me.
"It's not just for the contract," she said. "It's because I like you." She leaned over and wrapped her fingers around my tie. She pulled me to her until we were almost nose to nose. Her breath brushed my cheek, but she didn't move any further.
It was me who moved, brushing my lips over hers. Her mouth was soft and warm, her lips perfectly pillowy, heaven against mine.
That small touch set the rest of me on fire. I wanted to push her back down to the seat and kiss my way up her thighs to her core.
Instead, I broke off the kiss and laced my fingers with hers. "I like you too." I hesitated for a moment. "How would you feel about making this a real date? I know we said it was fake, but it doesn't feel fake to me."
"It doesn't feel fake to me either," she said. "Is this the usual thing you do on a first date? A ritzy party at a record label with Tyler Quick?"
"I don't know, I haven't been on a first date in a long time," I said. "Before you assume I was too busy to meet anyone, you'd be half right. I have been busy, but I haven't met anyone I wanted to stop being busy for. Until now. You make me want to slow down and… I don't know. Flick paint around. Collect fruit. Lie on a beach with a cocktail and unplug."
"I'm glad I inspire you to do nothing," she said. "It's a rare talent I have."
I chuckled. "I don't think making someone want to relax is a bad thing. It means I want to spend more time getting to know you and less time doing all the things that are expected of me. I think it's called something like work/life balance. I encourage my staff to embrace it, but I'm personally slightly behind."
Her face turned pink. "I'm flattered you've thought so much about the things I said."
"It was the stick figure," I said.
She blinked. "The stick figure?"
"Yes. I decided I should learn how to paint a better stick figure. I may devote the rest of my life to perfecting the art. In five, maybe ten years’ time, I might be able to paint five fingers."
She burst out laughing. "I've heard of worse life goals."
