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I open the double doors to the lobby, dropping my hand from her, my fingers flexing unconsciously. “What?”
“Everyone looking at you. It’s… unnerving.”
“You get used to it.” That’s a lie. But I don’t want her more self-conscious than she probably already is.
“Thank you,” she murmurs to the doorman of the hotel as he lets us out, and I guide her over to the side of the valet area, waiting for our ride.
She shivers, hugging my jacket tighter around her, and I have an awful surge of possessiveness pass through me seeing my clothes on her. What the hell is wrong with me? She needs my help, not for me to leer at her.
“Are you okay? I can go inside and see if they have a towel or something.”
“I’m fine. Just worried about the dress more than anything.” She shakes her head, giving me a rueful smile. “I shouldn’t have worn it to begin with. It’s not mine.”
“Whose is it?”
“My mom’s. I didn’t have a dress of my own for tonight.”
“Why didn’t you say something? You could have used my card.”
Her lips twist. “I already basically invited myself. I wasn’t going to demand you buy me an outfit too.”
No, she’s not the type to make demands, is she? “I wouldn’t have cared.”
“Well, I do.” She fiddles with the edge of the jacket’s sleeves where it falls past her fingertips. “I don’t know what you have going on with your personal life, but I don’t want to be one of those people who starts expecting things from you just because you came into money recently.”
“Think about it like this. When you’re with me, how you appear at an event reflects on me, so it’s for the job.”
She holds her arms out, her stained and ripped dress on display. “Some impression I made, then.”
“That was my fault and you know it. I’m just saying, don’t be afraid to ask if you need something.”
She bites her lip, glancing down. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she murmurs, so softly I’m not sure I heard it right.
I open my mouth to ask her to repeat that when my car pulls up to the curb, and she crosses her arms, stepping away. “Goodnight, Connor. Oh, here.” She takes off the jacket and holds it out to me.
“What are you doing? I’ll take you home.”
She blinks slowly. “But it’s so far out of your way.”
“It’s the least I can do. I have nowhere important to be.”
She hugs the jacket to her chest, eyeing me carefully. “Didn’t we just talk earlier about how pressed you are for time?”
“Come on.” I open the rear door for her, waiting her out. “We can go over the schedule for tomorrow. Now it’s work related.”
A small smile crosses her face as she relents. “Okay.” She gathers the bottom of her dress as she goes to step into the backseat, and I automatically hold out my hand for her to keep her balance, regretting the decision as her slim fingers wrap around mine.
She gives her address to Allen and pulls her phone out of her clutch, pulling up my meeting calendar. We spend the next twenty minutes going over everything for tomorrow, which is helpful since the end of the day is blocked off for the magazine interview and photoshoot Angelina signed me up for. I have no idea what to expect with that. Dad was always the one being interviewed, not me.
She puts her phone away when we’re finished, but doesn’t relax back into the leather seats, instead bending forward to examine the tear in her dress. She lifts the hem to inspect it closer, revealing her lower legs, and though there’s nothing sexual about the action, I can’t take my gaze off the modest amount of skin she’s exposed. Christ, I’ve seen more of her legs when she wears skirts to work, but something about this is different, like she’s uncovering herself.
Or maybe I’m only seeing what I want to see. Imagining more of a connection between us after she slipped under my defenses earlier.
“I think I can fix it,” she says, my gaze jerking up before she catches me staring at her. “Or at the very least, make it knee-length. As long as the stain comes out of the bodice.”
“I said I’ll buy—” I stop mid-sentence. “Wait, you can do that?”
“Sure.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s easy. Just takes time.”