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Natalia smiled graciously as Sam’s friends greeted them enthusiastically. Sam couldn’t take her eyes off her — the way she seamlessly switched from elegant agent to relaxed and charming in this casual setting.
They settled into their seats and soon wine glasses were clinking as the conversation flowed. Sam mostly listened, chiming in now and then, but content to watch Natalia dazzle. She couldn’t have dreamed a better outcome than what she already had.
“So, Natalia, you must have some good celebrity stories from your career,” Blanca said while passing around the braised Brussels sprouts. “Any fun mishaps with famous clients?”
“That would be wildly inappropriate for me to share,” she replied dryly, but Sam heard the playful undercurrent. “But I can make something up about a completely fictional client.”
Greta and Blanca both leaned forward like the proximity to celebrity was enthralling. Sam leaned back, wine in hand, and transfixed on Natalia.
“There is this little awards show. You probably haven’t heard of it. Let’s call it the Lemmy’s.” Natalia sipped her wine after earning a chuckle from Greta. “And let’s say that one of my up-and-comers was getting ready to walk the red carpet when I spotted a much, much bigger actor wearing the exact same dress as my client.”
“No,” Blanca gasped, like Natalia had said that she was surrounded by starving sharks in the open ocean.
Natalia tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Now something like that can be great. You suffer a little embarrassment, but your picture is plastered all over entertainment news outlets the next day. Free publicity, right?”
Greta and Blanca nodded like they had any idea about celebrity gossip rags. The sight of their interest was the warmth spreading through Sam’s tingling body. She never imagined a moment like this. Never thought it could feel so easy again.
“Well, this imaginary client bursts into tears on the spot.” Natalia set her glass down, using both hands to tell her story. “And I look at her and say pull it together, you know? The cameras are always watching and the last thing you want is to be caught blubbering.” Natalia shook her head. “For some reason that made things worse, and well, agonizing story short, I let the starlet have my dress, which even with every safety pin in the world was too big on her?—”
“And what the hell did you wear?” Blanca blurted.
“I paid a nice young man to give me his khakis and polo.”
“And he went home naked?” Sam couldn’t help but ask.
Natalia shrugged and reached for her glass again. “What happened to an imaginary kid? I have no idea, Professor.”
Locked in her gaze, Sam laughed. She was a rush of emotions, senses on overload, and longing for more.
“Who is the absolute worst person you’ve ever met?” Blanca asked, cheeks red from the wine and heat and gossip.
Natalia broke eye contact and returned her attention to Blanca. For a moment, Sam wondered if she was going to tell her that was enough, but instead Natalia obliged.
“I can trust that this won’t end up on TMZ?” Natalia leaned toward them, tone conspiratorial.
They nodded in unison.
Natalia mouthed a name that Sam didn’t catch, but she didn’t interrupt the story with a question. “She has the personality of wallpaper. And not an interesting pattern. The kind of wallpaper that’s just a solid color and completely not worth the hassle of putting up.”
“I knew it!” Blanca slammed her hand on the table in victory. “Haven’t I always said she looks awful?”
Greta nodded dutifully.
Under the table, Sam slid her hand over Natalia’s thigh. Natalia shot her an inscrutable look, but it was only one heart-pounding second before she rested her hand over Sam’s and continued talking.
Hours later, Sam and Natalia strolled back to Sam’s place. Floating from the wine and Natalia’s hand loosely in hers, Sam took another chance.
“Do you want to stay over?” she asked when they started walking up her driveway.
“A sleepover, Professor?” Natalia leveled her with a gaze, but continued toward Sam’s front door. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
Sam unlocked the door, a grin on her lips. “Oh, I’m ready.”
“If you snore?—”
“Banished to my own guest room, I know.” She held the door open and made no attempt to hide her excitement.
Hooking her finger in the loop of Sam’s trousers, she gave her a smoldering look before pulling her inside. “Come on then. I want you to do that thing with your tongue again.”
