Hot and flushed, I finished my prosecco a lot faster than normal. This guy listened to Ed Sheeran, drove a BMW, and was totally ... unexpected.
Then again, I wasn’t sure what I expected. Perhaps a man conjured up from Janie’s expectations and my mom’s recent fixations?
I did come partly for him, expecting him to make me laugh, but this? The whole thing with him being a romantic James Dean crossed with John Cusack,thatI wasn’t prepared for.Except for his build.
Of course, he’d cleaned up well for tonight. His black hair was parted and styled, gelled into place. His teeth were white, and a light wave of cologne wafted from him. His tux was a tad tight, his stomach not entirely constrained by the pants, but from the shoulders up, he was a looker.
God, Charleston ... get a grip.
But I was having a lot of fun, more fun than I should be having. This was a work trip, and it was only a convenient coincidence that Layton was here with me at dinner.Right?
“I’m sure your studio is cool,” I said. “I think when you love what you do, that’s all that matters.”
His brow furrowed and his eyes locked on mine. Silver flecks sparked in his irises when he went in for the kill. “Do you like what you do?”
Automatically, my hand went for my empty champagne glass.
“Would you like another?” His gaze drifted around the restaurant, looking for a server.
“I’d better not. I barely ate today.” Inside my head, my brain was wildly waving a red flag. I was enjoying myself entirely too much, and there was no need for more booze.
“Do you like what you do?” Layton obviously wasn’t going to let it go. He was too perceptive for that.
“I do, but I liked writing more. Now I spend my days axing ideas and cutting copy. I sort of want a change already, but it feels wrong. I’m only twenty-eight. Too young for this kind of crisis.”
Layton’s hand found its way on top of mine. “Hey, it’s never too early or late to want changes.”
I couldn’t take my gaze off his hand covering mine. He had long fingers with small calluses that tickled my skin, and his palm was warm.
He caught my gaze locked on the sight. “Oh, sorry. God, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.”
“It’s okay.”
When he pulled his hand back quickly, my fingers felt cold. The absence of his warm palm left me hungry for more of him. Forhim!
This guy, Layton Griffin—enigmatic introvert, chunky monkey, resident funny guy, and apparently a Casanova—scared the shit out of me. There was no polite, educated, ladylike way of putting it.
“Excuse me, I have to use the ladies’ room.”
Layton stood while I lumbered out of my chair, tripping over my own two feet, rushing to get away from the unfamiliar sensations I was feeling.
In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection in the mirror—the few wispy layers of my blond hair framing my face, the lipstick smeared off my top lip, the tiny speck of mascara under my eye, and the heart beating wildly in my chest. It was racing so hard, I could see it pounding against my skin.
I closed my eyes and took big gulps of air, inhaling deep breaths and exhaling them with a whoosh, trying desperately to calm myself.
Stalling, I peed, washed my hands, and pulled out my phone to text Janie.
CHARLI: SOS. Please text or call shortly and say you need me. Bad breakup, death in the family, whatever you want. Need out of a dinner. Please.
I jammed the phone back in my small purse and made my way back to the table. Of course, Layton stood again as I approached, and had also waited for me to come back before eating. The food had arrived and was displayed around the table.
“Good thing none of it’s hot,” he teased.
“Looks amazing,” I said, and picked up my chopsticks to place a few rolls and pieces of sashimi on my plate.
“I guess we’re not at that stage in our relationship where we can just pluck off the serving dish. Not that we’re in any kind of relationship ... I just meant, you go ahead and take what you want.”
Layton’s cheeks pinked as he stumbled over his words, and the sight of it made my heart thump a rapid pace again. I’d never made anyone nervous before.
