No one, not even my mom, has ever lavished so many compliments on me at one time. I feel full to bursting, and I’m likely blushing like a teenager with a crush. Is that really how she sees me?
“I—” I sputter, completely overwhelmed. “I—” I start again, but I’m still at a loss for words. “Uh…thank you.”
Unable to take her scrutiny or praise any longer, I clear my throat and push to change the subject.
“So what’s the game plan tonight? Do you need me to hold your purse? Keep a steady stream of champagne in your hands? Be a human shield against photographers?”
After a few more moments looking at me way too closely, she finally relaxes back against the plush leather seats.
“All the above?”
I laugh, but she doesn’t.OK then.
“I wish I were joking. We’ll pull up to a red carpet. Niko will open the door, and you’ll get out first, then you’ll help me out and shield me so no photographer gets an unflattering picture up my skirt. I don’t want to wind up like Britney Spears, though I’m definitely wearing underwear.”
I nod, willing myself not to react to the thought of her without underwear.
“Then I’ll walk the press gauntlet. Since I’m one of the spokespeople for Pumped Energy, we won’t have to wait in line, but I will need you to hold my purse during pictures.” Her eyes turn pleading. “Please don’t take offense if a pap asks you to move. They can be pretty rude because all they care about is the shot.”
I look at her with my eyebrow raised.
“I’m a grown man. I doubt a reporter could hurt my feelings.”
Kendra looks doubtful.
“You say that, but I’ve been close to tears from some of the things they’ve said. It makes you develop a thick skin quick.”
My blood boils just thinking about someone insulting her. Why? For apicture?
“And that reminds me,” she continues in a tone that says she read my mind, “you can’t get offended ifthey say something inappropriate to me either.” She raises her hand when I start to protest.
“I know, I know. You don’t want anyone tobesmirch my honorand all that chivalrous stuff. I know I don’t deserve whatever they may say, and I know it’s not right, but it comes with the territory. You have to let it roll off your back, or you end up giving them exactly what they want.”
I close my mouth.
“Thank you. Once we get inside, I’ll have to schmooze a little, say hi to the hosts, and take a few more pictures with whatever display they’ll have set up. I always miss the crab cakes when that happens, so if you could grab me some, I’d be very appreciative,” she says with a grin.
“I’ll keep you swimming in shellfish,” I promise with a smile. She giggles again.
“You’re the best.”
She snuggles against me then, and my heart starts racing. God, staying so close to her all night, acting like her date without getting to take her home? It’s going to be torture. Which reminds me…
“What about the date stuff?” I ask, proud my voice doesn’t sound as shaky as I feel. “Is it OK to put my arm around your waist?”
“Of course,” she answers readily.
“What about my hand on your lower back? Is that OK?”
Her breath catches, and I hold mine.
“Yes. That’s fine,” she murmurs. Her tone is huskier than before, and the temperature in the backseat definitely went up at least two degrees.
“You can even kiss me,” she offers hesitantly. “If you want.”
She rushes to add the last part, like I might say no. Doesn’t she realize that every bone in my body would say yes to literally anything she asks? I look down at her head resting against my chest. There’s no way she doesn’t feel my heart pounding.
“Since we’re talking about it ahead of time,” I begin, sure I’m making a mistake but unable to pass up the opportunity to feel her again, “and since neither your ex nor anyone else should be able to make you feel bad in that dress,” she blushes, “then I’ll kiss you tonight.”
