“Jesus, you make it sound like I hire prostitutes.” She shrugs. Is she sincerely implying what I think she’s implying? Or is that inferring? I can never keep those straight. “I beg your pardon.”
“I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s none of my business anyway.”
“Look. This gallery exhibit is important. I promise to be on my best behavior. My apologies for any comments about your attire that you may have found offensive. If it’s any consolation, the garment you’re wearing looks fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yes. Fine.”
“This is a Dior. A black velvet dress in with silk, embroidered floral design in fuchsia, red, and green to be exact.”
“Wonderful. Now, let’s find your wrap and go, so we’re not late.”
Growling. Yes, that’s what I said, growling, she pulls on the world’s ugliest winter parka. It’s got faux fur around the hood. Oh, hell. It’s got a hood. “So, you didn’t happen to buy a dress coat today?”
“Nope,” she snaps.
I think I’d better stop talking about her clothing. She’s taking off the offending outwear as I watch. “Please. I’m sorry. Your coat is fine.”
“Fine?” she says gritting her pretty teeth.
“Yes. It’s fine.”
Stomping to her front door, she yanks the rickety old door open, almost off its hinges. I step out into the hallway. I’m half expecting her to slam the door closed with her still inside, but as luck would have it, she’s decided to accompany me tonight.Yay?
“My driver is waiting for us if you’d like to come this way.”
“You have a driver?”
“Of course.”
“Figures,” she mutters.
It’s strange. I don’t recall the last time I’ve been on a date with someone so unimpressed before. As far as dates go, this one is starting off a little rocky. I intend on smoothing things out in the car. If not, my plans of having Miss Cartwright in my lap on the way home will never come to fruition.
I let my mind linger on her backside as she walks down the steps. She hasn’t yet put her parka back on so I get to see her lovely curves in the designer dress. The dress hugs her hips, and ass then tapers down fitting snuggly to just below her knees. Further down I can’t help noticing she’s wearing stockings with the seam that runs up the back. Wow, those are sexy as hell. Following the seam, I note four-inch stilettos in––you guessed it––fuchsia.
At the bottom of the steps, I slide my palm onto her lower back. “My apologies, Miss Cartwright. Now that I’ve gotten a better look at your dress, I find I rather like it.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
Sarcasm? “Let’s get your coat on, shall we? It’s brisk tonight.”
I help her on with her coat. Standing in front of her, I slowly work the snaps closed. Yes. That’s what I said. Snaps. When I get to the snap closest to her face, I look down at her and whisper. “You look lovely, Lexie.” I lean down and give her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. I feel her shiver, and I smirk. A shiver is a good sign. A very good sign.
“Thank you. So do you.”
Of course, I do. But, I keep the bravado to myself. “Thank you. Now, let’s get going.”
