Page 25 of Enjoying the Show


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dammit. Then he leaned closer and she inhaled a whiff of his cologne, and her vision

seemed to swim as arousal pooled between her thighs.

“So, Hailey,” he said in that deep, gravelly voice that made her tingle. “What

prompted the Friday night get-togethers?” He chuckled. “I just have to know.”

She flushed a bright red, and hoped she didn’t look as foolish as she felt. But hell,

she owed him the truth. “It started innocently enough. The five of us are single and get

together to laugh and have a good time. Faith, my best friend Sydney, and a few girls

from work. TV or movies and some good food. Then one night I looked out the window

and accidentally saw you nak—ah, readying for a shower.”

The waiter brought their drinks and waited while they ordered. When he left, Gage

took a long drink of beer and smiled. “So I had you hooked on my naked body, eh?”

She frowned. “I didn’t mean to see you undressed. It was an accident, at first. But I

made the mistake of telling the others, and then we started looking for you on Fridays,

which you always seemed to show up for.” She paused, fighting her blush. “This is really

embarrassing, you know.”

“Think about how I must feel,” he said, though he sounded less than sincere with

laughter bubbling in his throat. “Like a piece of meat.”

“Oh, please,” she muttered, grinning slightly when he laughed. A small silence

descended over them while he stared at her over the rim of his glass.

“So, tell me, Hailey. What do you do for a living?”

She sipped her wine, calming a bit at the mundane question. “I work for a logistics

company, where I run the transportation department.”

“Do you like it?”

She paused in her answer, aware no one had ever asked her that before.

“I guess I do. I like feeling needed, and I’m very good at my job.”

He pursed his lips. “You probably know I work construction.” She nodded. “Does

that bother you to be out with a blue collar kind of guy?” His words were light, but the

intensity behind his gaze made her wonder.

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