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She felt pretty.
And nervous.
Something she was becoming accustomed to when it came to Blake these days.
He’d been her best friend for so long that all shyness or discomfort or awkwardness between them faded ages ago. She should not be feeling nervous.
She considered wiping off her lipstick and going with a different shade. Then, she felt foolish for putting so much stock in her appearance when it was just Blake.
This wasn’t even a date. She was doing him a favor because it sounded like he’d forgotten all about the charity event and couldn’t find someone to go with him on such short notice. She figured she was his last-ditch effort, one that worked when he’d called in the IOU she’d offered after he’d picked her up from work.
She heard a single knock before her apartment door opened. The tap-tap-tap of doggie paws on her hardwood floor let her know exactly who’d arrived.
“Erik?” Blake yelled from the living room.
“Just a minute. I’m in the bathroom,” she called out. “I’m almost ready.”
Corky followed the sound of her voice, jumping against Erika, who quickly bent down to make sure the puppy’s claws didn’t snag her dress. “Hello, my sweetest,” she said, picking up the wriggling dog but holding her at arm’s length, twisting her face away. Puppy kisses and makeup didn’t mix, so she put Corky down, the dog rushing back into her bedroom, no doubt in search of her favorite toy.
She’d delivered Corky to Blake this morning before she went to work, as he’d had a rare day off. He’d reminded her that he’d be here at seven, and a quick glance at her phone showed he was actually a few minutes early.
Fluffing her hair, she took a steadying breath and one last look in the mirror. She wasn’t usually too fussed with her appearance. Not that she was a slob. It was just that she wasn’t one of those women who primped in front of a mirror for hours on end. As far as Erika was concerned, a woman’s worth had nothing to do with her looks and everything to do with her mind and her heart.
Until today anyway.
Today, she’d rushed home from the hospital, pissed about the fact she’d hit traffic. For the past two hours, she’d spent an ungodly amount of time stressing over her clothing, her hair, and her makeup.
Dammit.
Rolling her eyes at this ridiculous newfound vanity, she turned her back on her reflection and walked to her bedroom, grabbing the clutch she’d loaded with the essentials, transferred over from her larger daily purse. She’d only put her heels on a few minutes earlier, and her feet were already protesting. Doctors were experts when it came to practical, comfortable footwear, so while she owned lots of pretty heels, she didn’t wear them very often.
Walking to the living room, she stopped short when she saw Blake leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at his phone. Both of their apartments had the same open floor plan. The kitchen, living room, and dining room all one huge room, sectioned off by an island counter. It was one of the things Erika had loved about the place. She didn’t entertain often—most of her socializing was done at Blake’s—but she liked how everyone was always sharing the same space, whether they were cooking, grabbing drinks from the fridge, or hanging out on the couch.
Blake looked like he’d stepped off the pages of GQ, giving his best James Bond impersonation, as his tuxedo fit him to perfection. The suit jacket showed off his broad, muscular shoulders, and he’d taken the time to tame his thick, shaggy, gorgeous black hair. He looked fucking hot. Which didn’t help the butterflies that had taken residence in her stomach.
Blake glanced up when she entered, and that stupid vain woman practically swooned when his eyes widened in obvious appreciation. He gave her a wolf whistle as he tucked his phone into his jacket pocket and crossed the room to her.
“Holy shit, Erik.”
She gave him a vogue pose, meant to make him laugh and hopefully break some of this tension she was feeling. Unfortunately, he didn’t smile. Instead, he kept making his way toward her, reaching out to take one of her hands to spin her around.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.”
To hell with it. Tonight, she was going to embrace her inner narcissist, letting his compliments soak in.
“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” She reached out, fixing his tie, even though it was already perfect.
Blake was still looking at her, his eyes traveling from her hair, sliding along her curves—which she knew this dress accentuated just right—down to her heels and back again. “Suddenly regretting asking you to go with me tonight. Gonna have to beat my teammates off with a stick once they lay eyes on you in this dress.”
She smiled. “Pretty sure that’s not going to be a real concern.”
“I’m pretty sure it is,” he said, almost heatedly.
Erika didn’t know if his compliments were just part of his charm or flirting schtick, but damn if they weren’t working on her. She tried to dismiss what almost looked like jealousy flashing in his eyes as wishful thinking on her part, because why in the hell would Blake be jealous?
“A favor is a favor,” she said, anxious to put them back on solid ground. “But I’m curious. Who were you going to take to this party if I was busy?”
He lifted one shoulder casually. “I would have gone stag. Partied with my teammates.”
