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Chase smirked. “What about you, Reese? Plans this weekend?”
Jules had been bugging me to go to some new club for the last month. I had no desire to go. Until that moment. “Girls’ night on Saturday. My friend Jules and I are going to check out Harper’s downtown.”
I caught the slight flex of his jaw, but he answered unaffected. “Sounds like fun.”
“And what about you? Hot date?”
It wasn’t exactly an appropriate question to ask your new boss. But Chase was not a traditional boss anyway. He was connected to his employees and knew what was going on in their lives. So my nosey question didn’t raise any suspicion.
“Just a fundraiser we donate to. I’d prefer to just write the check, but somehow they talk me into showing up every year.”
I smiled. It was completely fake, but no one really knew me well enough to notice. Except Chase. “Well, enjoy your date.” I forked a piece of chicken from my Caesar salad and shoved it into my mouth.
I avoided Chase for the afternoon after that. At one point, he came down the hall toward my office, and I quickly popped into Josh’s so we wouldn’t be alone. Part of me knew I was being silly. Surely tomorrow night wasn’t a real date, and I was building something in my head that didn’t exist. This was exactly the reason I avoided office romance. Work needed to be about work, instead of letting my personal life interfere in places it didn’t belong.
So when Chase showed up at my office door at six o’clock, I was determined to keep things strictly professional.
“Share a meal together Sunday night?”
“I don’t think so. I’m going out clubbing Saturday and you—” I waved my hand as if saying whatever. “—have your date Saturday night. I’m sure we’ll both need Sunday to recover.”
He looked confused by my response. “Is everything okay, Reese?”
“It’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You seem like something’s bothering you.”
“Nope,” I answered, fast and curt.
Maybe too curt. Chase studied me with his lips pressed together. He was looking for clues, but I wasn’t giving any.
“I feel like it’s about Saturday night. But I figured you’d never go for a night when you had to wear a gown as our non-date, casual sharing of a meal.”
I cocked my head. “I’m sure you’ll have a better time with a real date anyway.”
His brows gathered again, and then his face transformed with a smug smile. “I wouldn’t exactly call Sam a real date.”
“Sam?”
“That’s who I’m taking. Who did you think I was going with?” He moved closer.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you think I was taking a date? After what we’d discussed the other night at dinner?”
“Someone might have mentioned that you usually took a model and were staying overnight at the hotel this weekend.”
“I’m taking Sam. To network. I booked a suite for her and her husband to stay afterward. It was part of the deal I made with her.”
“Oh.”
He edged closer again. “You were jealous.”
“I was not.”
“Bullshit.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re jealous that means you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you. You like to leave me out there dangling, not knowing what you’re thinking.”
He closed in on me as I sat in my chair. Placing one hand on each armrest, he lowered his face to mine. “I’m glad it’s mutual.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
“Sunday night? Share a meal with me.”
“Lunch.”
“Dinner.”
“Lunch. It’s more casual.”
He held my stare, trying to pull off serious, but I saw the corner of his mouth hint at a smile. “Fine. But I’m taking you someplace romantic for lunch.”
***
I was never into clubbing to begin with, but I really put in the extra effort Saturday night. Jules and I didn’t get to spend much time together, and I missed her and thought if there was ever a time I needed to cut loose, this was is it. Between my change of jobs and ever-growing addiction to thinking about Chase Parker, I needed to feel young and free again.
We bounced around early in the night, dancing at places before they became so packed that it was impossible to do anything but rub up against sweaty people on the dance floor. By the time we arrived at Harper’s, I was beginning to regret wearing five-inch heels. When I saw the line to get in—the one that extended almost a full city block—I decided the little half-empty Irish pub we’d just passed wasn’t looking half bad.
“Look at that line,” I groaned.
Jules grinned and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the door. “What line?”
A Herculean bouncer wrapped one arm around Jules and lifted her off the ground. “You showed up!”
“How could I resist free drinks and no line?”
“And here I thought you came for me.”
“Maybe a little of that, too.” She bumped her tiny shoulder into his chest. “What time do you get off?”
