Back in my office, I pull off Dane’s jacket and attempt to salvage my mess of a blouse. As I hang the heavy wool over the back of my rolling chair, a thin slip of paper flutters down to the gray carpet.
What’s this?
I try to ignore it, but nosiness wins. Instead of minding my own business, I snatch the paper off the floor and unfold a note.
Great meeting you. I’ll be at The Marq. Eight sharp.
I clutch the paper between my fingers, trying and failing to stop the warmth blooming through my stomach and out to my limbs.
Dane didn’t seem like the sort of man to abandon half his suit by accident. He meant formeto find this message.
How did he slip the invitation into his jacket while I was still wearing it? And does the answer even matter?
A couple of seconds pass before I come to a decision.
Nope, doesn’t matter at all.
Which means…holy shit!I’m going on a date.
Chapter 2
Caterina
The rest of the day rushes by in a blur of meetings, choices, and wandering thoughts of Dane Ryder’s waiting smile.
I can’t recall the last time I went on a date. I don’t even remember when I last spent a night under ambient lighting with a man who wasn’t my little brother or father.
My driver, Danny Costa, cruises up to the museum steps at seven thirty in a black-and-gold Bentley, even though I could walk the handful of blocks between the museum and my date spot. Despite the cold, I love the big fluffy flakes falling from the sky to blanket the city.
During the ride, I let my hair down, shaking out my bun so my dark waves cascade across my shoulders to my mid-back. I recognize my assets, and I’m about to flaunt them all.
Danny glances at me in the rearview mirror with sharp gray eyes. “Will you need a ride home, Miss Ricci?”
“No, you can go on back without me.” I pull a compact out of my purse and poke at the edge of my eye. My makeup isn’t date-night, but it’ll do. “I’ll be late, so I’ll stay in town tonight.”
I hope.
When we reach the restaurant, I slyly unbutton and shimmy out of my ruined shirt, leaving the fabric crumpled on theback seat of Danny’s car. Adjusting Dane’s jacket, I ensure I’m entirely covered before sliding out of the vehicle.
Danny closes the door behind me. “Be safe, Miss Ricci.” We’ve worked together long enough for me to hear his unease.
Even he knows how strange it is for me to go out like this. To indulge in a night of fun.
I smile and wave him back to the car. “I’ll be fine. Good night, Danny.”
The Marq is the type of place that triggers visions of smoke curling around dapper guests while the Rat Pack chills in a corner. The welcoming aroma of cloves, ginger, and a hint of pine ushers in holiday cheer. The immaculately restored mahogany pillars, green damask wallpaper, and brown leather booths showcase a shiny fifties vibe.
Soft lighting illuminates the room, giving workaholics the perfect backdrop for a night of relaxation.
Dane meets my eyes from across the space, waving from his spot in a small circular booth, a glass tumbler on the table in front of him. The rolled-up sleeves of his button-down reveal forearms covered in gorgeous ink, and my chest flutters at the sight.
I slide onto the leather seat. “Dane.” My voice remains cool and collected. Win for me.
“Caterina.” He smiles, his teeth white in the shadows. “You came.”
“Well, you went to all the trouble of spilling my coffee so you could give me your jacket and my invitation.”
Dane laughs, the rumble deeper and throatier than in Pruitt’s office, and my stomach somersaults.
