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“To Stacy Rosen,” I announced. “And the best damn futuristic-tech-meets-steampunk costumes the world has ever seen.” I held out my drink glass, making the toast in the middle of the little café we’d darted into after the show for dessert.
“Thank you, thank you,” Stacy said, standing from her chair and taking a small bow as Trent and Dominic clapped. “I’d like to thank my adoring fans. And Natasha for being my sounding board for design ideas even when she had no idea what I was talking about.”
“I now know far more about sequins than any person whodoesn’twork in fashion should,” I said.
Stacy plopped back down in her seat, grinning as Dominic planted a kiss on her cheek. “It was pretty good, right?”
“For an original play,” Trent said, eating the rest of his carrot cake. “I was surprisingly entertained.”
“The humor was great,” Dominic said. “Strong performances. Solid direction. But everything paled in comparison to the costumes.”
Stacy rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing as Dominic tugged her chair closer, his lips caressing her neck. They were going to need to get themselves a room if this carried on. I glanced at Trent, and he smirked, probably getting some ideas of his own.
“Behave,” I mouthed under my breath. He licked the icing from his fork deliberately slowly.
“The more positive buzz the show gets, the more attention my costumes will get,” Stacy said, practically vibrating with excitement. “I really think this could be the catalyst that gets me bigger gigs with better companies.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m really proud of you, Stace.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m really proud of you too,” Dominic said, lowering his voice as he added, “I’ll show you how much later.”
Stacy flushed an even darker shade of red, but she leaned in closer to him. I got the sense that they were both very ready to be alone together.
“I’ve got this,” Trent said, motioning to the bill, “if you two have to head off.” He caught Dominic’s eye. They had a silent conversation involving arched eyebrows and smirks. When it was done, Dominic announced that they were leaving. Stacy thanked us for coming, promised to message me when she was home, and the two of them headed off.
Once Trent had taken care of the bill, he tucked his arm through mine, the two of us wandering back toward his place in Greenwich Village. The show had been anoffoff-Broadway production, so we were only about a twenty-minute walk from his place, and despite the chill, I enjoyed tucking into his side.
“Did you really like it?” I asked now that we were alone.
“Let’s put it this way. I didn’t hate it. I mostly just enjoyed spending the evening with you.”
My lips twisted.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re trying not to laugh,” he grumbled. “What is it?”
“Sometimes I just wonder how this Coffeezilla of a man can endure such hardship for me.”
“Because you keep me properly caffeinated. And you’re damn sexy.” He bussed my temple with his lips. “You’re cold.”
“I’m waiting for someone to warm me up,” I said pointedly.
“Are you, now? Want to get warm and toasty by the fire?”
“I was thinking we could do this the old-fashioned way—sharing body heat.” Trent sped up, and I laughed. “Someone obviously likes the sound of that.”
“I’m about to set you on fire, my little Hellcat.”
I smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”
He pulled us to a stop, catching me in his arms as he planted a decidedly unchaste kiss on my lips. “Challenge accepted.” He took my hand, hurrying us across the next street.
By the time we reached his apartment, my heart was pounding, and I felt like I was tingling all over for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold.