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With shaky hands and sweaty palms, I approach Trent and his friends, hoping he will make this less awkward for me. I haven’t seen him up close in so long that my throat closes up. The words I’ve wanted to say for so long have vanished. My mind goes blank, and when that happens, a thousand different thoughts race through my head. The room practically swirls around me the closer I get to him.
Luckily, Trent sees me coming and closes the distance between us. The corners of his mouth turn up into a wide grin, one that makes the crease in his cheek pop. “Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for saving me out there.”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I admit.
“That was weird, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’d love to know what that was all about. I was expecting every girl in the room to bid on you. I figured by now you’d have your hands full.”
He winks. “I’m happy it turned out this way.” His hand falls to my shoulder, and he pulls me to his chest. “Because now I get to make up for the date we never had.”
I try to push that day to the back of my mind. There’s no sense in dwelling on the past, though that day still stings a little when I think about it. “I’m looking forward to it. Make it a good one. It might be your only shot.”
I’m completely joking, but I don’t want Trent to know, and my face doesn’t give away the slightest hint that I’m lying. Well, it’s not a lie entirely. If the date doesn’t go well, there’s no point in seeing him again. And if it does, then we have something to talk about. Like a second date.
Trent smirks. “I plan to make it a date you won’t forget.”
I smile in response, the blush rising to my cheeks, heat racing over every inch of my body.
Twenty-Four
Trent
When Jemma opens the door, my jaw practically unhinges from the sight of her in a short, tight black dress. She’s wearing red heels, the same shade as her lipstick, her plump lips so perfect and kissable.
Damn, I’m one lucky man.
“Hey,” she coos, her green eyes wide as she rakes over my body.
I’m wearing a suit, one similar to the black Armani from the charity auction.
“Hey.” Why am I so nervous? I hold out a shaky hand to offer her the bouquet of red roses. “You look beautiful.”
She takes the flowers and lifts them to her nose. “Thank you.”
Jemma seems nervous too, as if she needed to hide behind the roses to fill the awkward void between us. I’m so afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing with her. This time, I can’t blow my shot. Well, I didn’t exactly do anything wrong last time. Still…
After Jemma fills a vase of water, she arranges the bouquet on the table in her living room, and then we’re on our way.
She shoots me a curious expression when I stop in front of the stretch limo waiting for us at the curb. Tony, my father’s driver, is already here, holding open the door for Jemma.
“Good evening, Miss Walcott,” Tony says to Jemma.
Jemma smiles and says hello, before angling her body to look at me. She’s about to speak, but I silence her before she can.
I place my hand on her shoulder and hold the other out toward the open limousine. “Ladies first.”
Jemma shakes her head, a smile on her lips.
I said I would make up for everything that happened, vowed to show her a good time, promised her the best date she’s ever had. And I’m not one to half-ass things. Tonight has to be perfect—like Jemma and her fine ass in this dress.
I close my hand into a fist and bite down on it, my eyes focusing on Jemma as she climbs into the limo. It’s hard not to think of the dirty things I want to do with her. But I can’t be a dick or think with mine. All Jemma will see tonight is Trent, the gentleman, the man she should have been with all along.
Once inside the limo, I slide across the leather bench, our thighs almost touching. Jemma folds her hands on her lap, staring around the backseat, her eyes landing on the mini bar where a bottle of champagne is chilling on ice.
“Want a drink?” I ask, reaching for the bottle and two glasses sitting on the granite top.
“Yes, please.” She sucks in a deep breath and blows it out.
I fill two glasses of champagne for us, and Jemma clutches the stem with both hands, as if she needs to touch something to keep her grounded.
“I have to say something,” I confess, and she takes a sip from her glass, her eyes pointed at me. “Both of us are nervous. But we don’t have to act weird around each other. I want you to have fun tonight, okay?” She nods, and I continue, “There’s no pressure tonight. All I want is to show you a good time and walk you to your door at the end of the night.”
