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Her smile fades as she folds her thumb into her fist for the umpteenth time. It’s a nervous tic I’m starting to notice. “How close?”
“As close as you’re comfortable with.”
She moves a few inches toward the center of the booth, but we’re still half an arm’s length apart. After a brief pause, she sucks in a deep breath and shimmies closer until my thigh is pressed against hers. It feels natural, so I lift my arm above her shoulders. “This okay?” I check.
When she nods, I rest my arm around her, feeling how hot her skin is. If she’s telling the truth and she hasn’t had a drop of alcohol tonight, then this heat must be because I’m making her nervous. I like that.
I lean over to whisper against her ear. “I have an idea.” She flinches when my lips touch her earlobe, then quickly steadies herself. “What if we order every drink off the cocktail menu butonly take one sip of each? That way it’s still one drink, but you don’t miss out on anything.”
“That’s a pricey bar tab just to strike out.”
“Obviously I’m hoping you’re a lightweight and that one drink changes your mind. You know, indecent intentions and all.”
I’m so close I get to feel her laugh, not just hear it. Her cheeks bounce and her body jolts as she giggles. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy as sarcastic as I am.”
“Then we were destined.”
“Seems that way.”
She claps her hands together. “Okay. I’m in. Eight drinks. One sip each. Maybe two sips from the pineapple mojito because that sounds divine.”
“Done.” I raise my free hand in the air and it takes a split second for the waitress to appear. She became extra attentive earlier this evening when I gave her my black card to open my tab. “One of everything,” I say, tapping the menu.
“Beer too?”
I look at Spencer. She quickly makes a face before shaking her head.
“Only the cocktails. Thanks.”
“Coming right up.” The waitress retreats from the table and makes a beeline to the bar. She’s smart. If she plays her cards right and does a good job, the tips she gets from the VIP tables tonight could probably make a couple car payments.
Spencer’s phone lights up and she leans forward to glance at a message preview. Satisfied with whatever she received, she relaxes back. Instead of only tolerating my arm wrapped around her shoulders, she nuzzles into me. “I’m not trying to be too forward, but shit, you smell really good.” She breathes in deeply to make her point.
“Really?”
“I’m not sure if I’m turned on, or I want to ask you where you bought your cologne so I can pick up a bottle for myself.”
I ignore the pang of guilt twisting in my gut.She’s not coming back, Nate.
I’ve taken a few women out on dates in the past year or so. Nothing even came close to a spark, until now. This is a good, small step. I have no intention of asking Spencer for her number. I’ll never see her again, so maybe it’s safe to toe the line.
“I’m pretty sure you’re turned on,” I rasp into her ear.
Her hand slinks onto the edge of my knee. Not high enough to be sleazy, but enough of a touch for me to translate it as an invitation. I pull her long locks away from her shoulder and behind her back. For the first time, I let my eyes fall to her chest, giving myself full permission to enjoy the deep crevice of her cleavage.
“Or, at least, I’m turned on,” I admit.
She rotates her head, her cheek rubbing against mine, before her eyes are set on my own. We’re so close our lips are touching. We’re not kissing. Just lips grazing, waiting for someone to make the first move.
“I love this song,” she murmurs, her breath tickling my mouth. “Do you know it?”
Of course I recognize the famous piano prelude. I’m already cringing for whoever is about to brutalize Alicia Keys’s “If I Ain’t Got You” on the karaoke machine. “I know it. I can play it too.”
“You play piano?”
“Mhm.” I don’t elaborate. I’ve lost interest in anything other than succumbing to the urge to kiss her. I lean into Spencer, wanting to feel the pressure of her soft lips on mine, but the very moment the singer starts, she pulls away and her attention snaps to the stage.
I understand why. The singer is breathtakingly good. “I guess the birthday girl actually hired a performer for tonight.”