Begin Again - Jennifer Probst Page 0,8
I wanted to see if you’d join me as my date for an upcoming business dinner. It’ll be an intimate event, only a dozen people. I’m holding it at that new French restaurant getting all those rave reviews so it’s still relatively formal.”
“Oh, for the Foundation?”
“No, this one is for my investment corporation. But I promise it won’t be filled with stuffy Wall Street executives. I have a nice mix of people I think you’d enjoy meeting. It’s in two weeks. I can text you all the details.”
She hesitated. She despised spending her precious nights at yet another formal affair, but she’d like to see Drew in his element and get to know more about him and his business. “Of course, I’d love to.”
“Excellent. I’m assuming we’re skipping dessert?”
She’d been looking forward to the tiramisu all night, but figured it would be awkward if she asked for it now. “I’ll have a cappuccino,” she said, hoping they gave her an extra biscotti with it.
“Me, too.” He ordered, and the waiter cleared their table with quick efficiency. Drew’s handsome face softened as he stared at her. “I don’t want this to come off too strong, but I wanted you to know I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” He shook his head, looking adorably self-conscious. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been excited about a woman in my life. I just wanted you to know that.”
Chloe waited for the excited leap in her chest from his declaration, but once again, her heart was disturbingly steady. But maybe that didn’t matter? After all, she was twenty-eight years old, past the age of needing silly physical cues when her head said this man was a good fit for her. Other than a few chaste good-night kisses, they hadn’t slipped into any type of intimacy.
She needed to kiss him tonight. Passionately. Raise the stakes. She refused to screw up an opportunity with a man just because she was stuck on a young boy from her past who didn’t exist anymore.
“Thank you, Drew,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “I’m excited about you, too.”
They sipped their late-night coffee and fell into an easy dialogue. By the time he’d escorted her to his black Mercedes-Benz, Chloe was relaxed. They held hands as he deftly maneuvered through the crowded city streets and unbelievably, found an open parking space on her block. “Score,” he murmured, and she laughed, already turning, her mind focused on him.
He cut the engine. Leaned in. Her hand drifted up to hesitantly touch his face, smooth and stubble free, his square cut jaw straight, full lips, and cut cheekbones straight from a superhero comic. “You’re very handsome,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Thank you. But you are a work of art.” He stroked her hair. “And it’s officially our fifth date. Would you invite me up?”
Tension stiffened her muscles. She wasn’t ready to sleep with him yet. There was something sacred about inviting a man into her bed. When she was young and reckless, she’d made a bunch of bad choices, sleeping with bad boys to prove nothing could hurt her, and it only made a bigger mess in her head. Now she accepted her need to go slow and refused to apologize for it. “I don’t think tonight is a good idea,” she said.
He nodded, taking the rejection with his normal ease. “Got it. Then I’ll just have to show you how you make me feel right here.”
He lowered his head and kissed her.
Chloe responded immediately, allowing her mouth to soften under his, her hands gripping his broad shoulders. He smelled of expensive cologne, a musky, ocean scent that should have driven her crazy. He knew what he was doing, expertly applying the perfect amount of pressure, slowly sliding his tongue with subtle precision, allowing her to warm up. Her body responded like a fine-tuned machine and she sank into the kiss, deliberately shutting her mind down to enjoy the moment.
When he finally lifted his head, satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “You are delicious,” he muttered. “I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Me, too.” She smiled and grabbed her purse. “I better go. Thanks for dinner.”
“Thanks for saying yes.”
Chloe climbed out of the car and walked to her apartment building. Nodding to Art, the doorman, she took the elevator up to the eighth floor and entered her sacred space. Kicking off her heels, she went straight to her living room, got comfortable, and took out her phone.
He answered on the second ring. “Sweetheart!