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Rocky steps off the elevator and takes my breath away.
She’s dressed in a floor-length, slate-blue dress with a halter top held up by thin spaghetti straps that crisscross over her shoulders down to her waist leaving her beautiful back exposed.
Her hair is swept over one shoulder, and the way the top is cut, it gives a teasing glimpse of the curve of her breasts on the sides. The full effect is tantalizing. It makes me want to blow off the gala and take her upstairs…
Clearly, we can’t do that.
She closes the space between us, her blue skirt moving in filmy waves around her legs, and her lips curl into a sly grin. “You look like you’ve been struck by lightning.”
I’m pretty sure I have.
“You’re stunning.” Reaching out, I slide my hand around her waist to the soft skin of her lower back and lean forward to kiss her cheek, just beside her ear.
A shiver moves through her body, and damn. I really do want to blow off this gala. “We should just call it and head back upstairs.”
She starts to laugh, taking my arm and turning me toward the door. “I thought we were here on business, Mr. Fletcher. This gala is a very important event, and you don’t want Jerry representing you at it.”
The mention of his name is a boner-killer, and I put my hand over hers. “It’s true. We might have to make a pitstop in the lavatory when we get there. I don’t know how much longer I can look at you in this dress without ripping it off.”
Her eyebrows rise, and I suppose I am being a bit forceful.
“This is a very expensive dress, Mr. Fletcher.” She keeps calling me that. It’s unexpectedly erotic.
“I should know. I bought it for you.”
Our driver waits, holding the door, and she kisses my cheek, giving me a teasing, doe-eyed glance. “When we get back, you can do what you want with it.”
I climb in the car beside her, and I lower my gaze, giving her a heated look. “Don’t worry, I intend to.”
A line of limos and towncars blocks the circular drive leading up to the observatory. We inch along at a snail’s pace for several minutes. The sun is setting, and the air is cool. The sky is a gradient of deep red at the horizon to orange to yellow, and Rocky pulls my hand.
“Let’s get out and walk.”
I hesitate a moment, looking down at the delicate, strappy heels she’s wearing. “Are you sure? It’s a little ways…”
“I’m sure.” She smiles warmly, and I lean forward to ask the driver to stop.
Waiting by the door, I hold her hand as she emerges in a swirl of blue. The color of the dress makes her pale blue eyes seem to glow. She’s difficult to look away from.
“You should wear this color more often.” Even I can hear the amazement in my tone, and h
er cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.
“You might not get any work done…” She’s teasing me, and I pull her hand into the crook of my arm.
“I’m very good at multitasking.”
We walk up the slick, concrete drive toward the three-domed observatory. When we get to the astronomer’s monument out front, she turns, looking out at the view of downtown. We walk farther up, and we see the Hollywood sign.
She hands me her phone from her wristlet. “Take my picture.”
We did this all morning, but it is the best view of the sign. She stands in front of the railing, and I tap the button. With the orange glow behind her and the blue of her dress, it looks almost like a painting, and I quickly tap the buttons to send it to myself.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting it to my phone.”
“No… wait—” She reaches for the device, but it’s too late.
