Colton: Sure, you don’t. I’ll see you tonight, pick you up from your apartment, just text me the address. And don’t forget to wear something pretty.
I know she’s going to sass me for that comment, but I smile anyway before I head to the shower. If I can wake the hell up, I’ll be able to focus on where to take her tonight. Somewhere special, private, and romantic.
It’s not a date.
It’s just dinner.
But is it?
12
Violet
I twist and turn, looking at myself in the mirror for the hundredth time since I slipped on my underwear. It’s nothing special, because I’m most certainly not taking that step with him, but there’s still a niggling in my gut to put something sexier on.
For a long moment, I consider it but shake my head and, instead, decide against the sexier option.
A man like him and a woman like me would normally not be a great match. He’s in the spotlight constantly, whereas I prefer spending my time with my nose in a book.
Sighing, I tug at the waistband of my panties. The underwear is black, simple, and elegant. Not that Colton’s going to see it, but it makes me feel good.
I grab the dress and quickly slide it up my body. The material hugs my curves, and the thin straps slink over my shoulders. I went for black, just like Ida recommended. Slipping on the heels, I smile at my reflection. My shoes are black with a strap around the heel. They also give me some height, but also ensuring my calves look toned when I’m walking. And if he wanted to kiss me, it would put me at a perfect height to…
No.
What the hell am I thinking?
It’s not a date.
Our back and forth messages this morning were fun. I hadn’t really enjoyed texting someone in such a long time, I forgot how freeing it is. It’s not like talking on the phone, where they can hear you breathing, listening to your every word, and it’s not like being face-to-face.
A text message can be as simple and as complex as you want to make it. The only problem is, sometimes it can be taken the wrong way. Thankfully, with Colton, it’s not a problem. His light-hearted banter was what I needed to get through the day, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I wrote my article for the new line of purses that Versace is releasing for their summer line.
My phone rings the next second, startling me from my thoughts. Clarissa’s name flickers on the screen, and I know I have to answer it in the event it being something urgent.
“Hello.”
“Violet.” Clarissa says my name in her stoic, serious manner, and I can tell she’s not in a good mood by the tone of her voice. I close my eyes and wait for it, hoping nothing has happened to the articles I submitted for publication. But she shocks me when she says, “I’m flying to LA tomorrow, and I need you in the office until six to finish off both articles and get them to editorial as soon as possible. I’ll be checking my email, but I’m leaving you in charge of this. Can you handle it?”
“Of course,” I gush as my heart thuds wildly against my ribs. I’ve been waiting for months to show her I’m able to take on the responsibility, and one day, hopefully, be seated where she is. “You can count on me.”
She taps on her keyboard, and I hear the ping in my ear. She’s sent me a meeting request, I’m sure. I’m bouncing on my heels as I think about running her office for a few days. It’s not much, but it’s something. It shows she trusts me.
“There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about,” she says. My chest tightens with worry because I have a feeling I know what she wants to talk to me about. “This… situation,” Clarissa speaks while keeping her voice controlled, aloof, but tense with something I can’t quite put my finger on. “I don’t want it getting in the way of your job.”
I can only guess she’s talking about Colton. We haven’t even gone out yet, and she’s already worried. Tonight will be our first date, well, dinner. “I can assure you that my professionalism will not falter.” I hope I sound confident because I need her to know that my job means everything to me.
“I understand that. And I know what it’s like dating someone in the public eye. It’s definitely not a walk in the park. It’s not traditional is what I mean. If he does anything… If his name appears in the tabloids for anything negative, that can impact you as well.”
I knew it was a risk when I agreed to dinner. Being with a man who’s been photographed more times than I’ve taken selfies is daunting, but the thought of my name being splashed across newspapers is far worse.
“I understand, and I’ll make sure to be careful,” I tell her, closing my eyes while I wait for her to respond. Being with Colton is going to be a challenge, I know that. But I can’t say much more than I already have because I have no idea how tonight is going to go.
“Good.” More tapping comes over the line and then, “Enjoy your evening.” She hangs up before I have time to respond. My stomach is flip-flopping at the way my life has changed seemingly overnight.
Two challenges await me—a date with a world-famous underwear model, and my job taking on a whole new path—and emotion clogs my throat when I attempt to swallow.
I tap out a message to the one person who knows how hard I’ve worked. And I pray she doesn’t guilt trip me as she always does. My sister has always been the more outgoing of the two of us. With her looks and her job, I’ve always lived in her shadow, and I’m thankful I finally have something that’s mine.
The buzzer to my apartment sounds throughout the living room, bouncing all the way into the bedroom. I throw my phone on the bed before heading to the door. Peeking through the peephole, I see Colton on the other side, and my stomach has another bout of flurrying butterflies before I open the door.
“Hi.” He offers me a grin that makes everything south of my belly button tingle. Why does he have to be so gorgeous?
I return his greeting with a smile of my own. “Hi.” For a moment, we stand in silence. “Shit, come inside,” I splutter. “I’m sorry. I’m almost ready.”
“That’s fine, there’s no rush.” When he steps inside my apartment, I have to pinch myself to believe this is real. It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone in here with a guy. Usually, with dates, they end and start at the restaurant or cinema. But having him inside my personal space is different. A good different, but still alarming.
“You look nice,” I mumble, taking in his black slacks that seem to be painted onto muscled thighs and an ass that would make any sane woman lose her mind. His button-up shirt hugs his broad shoulders with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I get a magnificent view of the corded veins under the smooth, tanned skin of his forearms.
He glances at me with a raised brow. “Are you flirting with me, Violet?” he questions with that thick British accent that does stupid things to my libido.
“I don’t flirt,” I retort hotly, making Colton chuckle. The sound vibrates through his chest like a promise of seductive laughter.
“It’s all right, you know,” he insists.
Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I ask, “What is?” Colton shoves his hands into his pockets, his head lowered, and he lifts his gaze to mine. The almost innocent way he’s looking at me doesn’t hide the desire dancing in those endless ocean eyes.