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Spending time with him in person has turned me into a media punchline. Worse than that, I’ve turn myself into a locatable target.
I remind myself that the gala is a business meeting, not a date. I’ll walk the red carpet, take a few pictures, and interview the band members on the backstory of their rise to stardom.
Strictly professional.
Unfortunately, considering the way I’ve sat by the phone every night waiting for his call, professional isn’t what’s brewing between us.
“Oh, and, Phoebe? For the gala, make sure to look the part, princess.”
I wish I’d read the damn column before I bought the dress.
Sighing, I drop the tablet with the offending blog and give myself a once-over in the mirror. I’m not sure what “part” I was going for…
My dress doesn’t scream princess as much as it does mistress.
A fire-engine-red gown stares back at me, flaunting a neckline so low it kisses my navel. Sex kitten makeup and mattress-tousled hair complete the look, and I have to give myself a little credit for accomplishing all of it without Gage’s help.
Alive with anxiety, I walk out of the bedroom to a chorus of catcalls and whistles. Blushing, I wave a hand for them to stop.
Grabbing me by the waist, Gage swings me around. “Hot damn, baby doll! You said you had a work thing, you didn’t say it was a date!”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “It is a work thing.” Wrenching out of his hold, I playfully hit him with my clutch purse. I could hit him with the toaster oven, and it wouldn’t wipe the smirk off his face.
“Oh please, Lady in Red. That dress screams, ‘Bend me over from here to Brooklyn.’”
I glance across the room. “Help me out here?”
Parker just grins, his arms spread against the back of the couch. “I would, but he has a point.”
“Oh hell!” I threw up my hands in exasperation.
“If it’s any consolation,” he offers, “if I played for your team, you’d have me on my knees.”
That earns him a smile.
However Gage isn’t as congenial. “Watch yourself,” he warns, pointing his finger at him. “Besides, if we crossed to the dark side, you’d never stand a chance.”
Parker raises an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“Really. I’d have Pheebs under me so fast, we’d be on our second box of condoms before you could stutter your name.”
I’m laughing so hard tears threaten my makeup. “What makes you think I’d be attracted to you, lover?”
Gage looks at me like I’m crazy. “Everyone is, baby doll.”
“Oh, my God!” Parker and I groan in unison.
However, my smile quickly fades as I scramble with what to say next. I have exactly three minutes to prepare Gage for the stroke he’s about to have. I should’ve told him before now, but I didn’t know if he’d be calm or try to dry-hump Julian like a Saint Bernard.
I jump as Gage claps his hands, rubbing them together like some diabolical villain. “I just remembered, I finally get to meet this mystery man.”
Letting out a nervous laugh, I run my fingers along the length of my hair.
Gage’s face falls. “Shit. What is it?”
Shrugging, I make my way across the room and start wiping down a counter so pristine you could lick it. “What’s what? I don’t know what you mean.”
“First, you play with your hair, and now, you’re scrubbing the counter like some tweaked-out truck stop waitress. Baby doll, I hate to break it to you, but those are your two telltale signs of freaking the fuck out. What gives?”
