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I stare at the man I now know as Gray. I can’t stop staring at his gorgeous profile. It seems the Gods were on my side tonight when I asked for a night free of drama and maybe even a little fun, but I wasn’t expecting this.
Lyle pours us a glass each of pink Bollinger champagne before he slides it back in the cooler and leaves us to browse the menu. To calm my nerves in front of this captivating man, one who has caught everyone's attention – including mine – I take a couple sips of my gin and tonic. All the while Gray gets comfortable across from me, glancing over as the bubbles settle in our champagne glasses.
It’s a little over the top, even for Casa Cipriani.
I can’t help but meet his easy gaze on mine, and I’m sure my breath catches every time he looks at me. My eyes flick down to the table as he picks up his glass and raises it toward me. One look at him and it's clear he takes care of himself. It’s evident from his well-built upper body. Perfectly cut in his suit, it’s obvious he’s muscled to high heaven underneath. I wonder what else is lying under there waiting to be discovered. He’s tall, with piercing blue eyes, and they’re enough to make a stir wherever he goes. That’s evident by the admiring glances he got when he crossed the room. He has a strong jaw-line, and dark hair which is longer on top but short in the back. It’s gelled back and perfectly styled, setting off his tanned skin.
“Shall we make a toast?” His all-too perfect lips quirk in a smile. He knows he’s good-looking, that’s for certain, but does he know the effect he’s having on me?
“Why not?” I shrug as I pick up my champagne glass.
I’m definitely trying to keep it in check as I squeeze my thighs together under the table. The guy is panty-melting just from his large frame alone. Don’t even get me started on those crystal blue eyes that keep watching me, it’s unnerving. He has a serious look about him, but I still want to run my hands through his hair and mess it up. I’m sure it took him a fair amount of time to get it just right.
I got a subtle waft of his cologne when he pulled my chair out, and it may just be embedded into my brain forever more. It’s a rich, dark, brutish scent, with an earthy but masculine quality that evokes memories of the mountains from my childhood vacations. And I’ve no idea why I think that.
I’m not a woman that goes gaga over a guy. Most guys who make this much effort are usually full of themselves or know they’re all that, but not Gray. He doesn't come off that way.
I’ve also been dubbed too serious and way too focused on my career to have any kind of social life, so what would I know?
No doubt, my dad, an attorney like me, is pleased about my career choice and has always wanted me to be the very best I can be. I’ve spent a long time trying to prove that to him.
“Here’s to the extremely fortunate inconveniences at Casa Cipriani.” He smiles and gives me the full version of his sexy, penetrating gaze.
I can’t help but laugh to myself. This guy sure is something. “Maybe the best mess up they’ve ever had,” I chime as we clink glasses.
Gray watches me carefully. My eyes flick to his mouth as he parts his lips and takes a sip. I squeeze my thighs again. This guy is seriously hot, and it’s scrambling my brain and making me foggy. Surely it can’t be the champagne already after just a few sips?
“Now that’s not a bad drop,” he says, placing his glass back down on the table.
The taste of the Bollinger is perfect on my taste buds; the hint of red berries, cherry and wild strawberry having a party in my mouth. There's a touch of spice in the aftertaste. And something else, maybe currants.
"It's as smooth as velvet," I casually remark, sounding unintentionally seductive.
He smiles as I glance at the menu, trying not to notice how pretty his eyes are.
I knew the dress was a little risqué tonight, but I decided to let my hair down. It’s not often I’m in New York. One thing is certain; he’s definitely appreciating my efforts with those sexy eyes. And that makes me feel good.
I’m usually in very formal, boring skirt suits during the day, not tight dresses and black pearls that belonged to my Grandma.
“Where are you from, Hartley?” he asks, his voice deep and reverberating. I like that he looks at me while he’s speaking. I admire that in a person, but with him, it’s making me feel a little off kilter because he’s so gorgeous and smooth and I’m feeling it. Just like the champagne.
“Boston,” I say. “At least for the time being, anyway.”
His eyebrows raise a little. “Have you been to Casa Cipriani before?”
“No, never.” I shake my head. “You?”
He nods. Of course he has. “I like the smaller, more charming boutique hotels when I’m in New York.”
“Where are you from?”
“Nashville, for the moment, at least. I've lived there for years but I’m moving somewhere so far removed from city life, it may as well be Alaska," he chuckles, taking another sip from his champagne flute. He leaves that open-ended, but I don’t pry.
I laugh too. Interesting. “You’re here on business?”
His lips quirk a smile, like he’s sharing some kind of inside joke with himself I’m not privy to. “Something like that.”
“Well, it certainly is beautiful here,” I say, glancing down again at the menu. “I mean, all of New York is, but especially this place. I like that it's tucked away from all the hustle and bustle...”
