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He inclines his head. “You live close to the Halycon Hotel. Both are in Soho.”
“Yes, I suppose I do.” I fasten my seat belt. “Was it still okay for you to pick me up? I hope it didn’t delay you.”
“Of course not.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I’m not used to this. Blurt something out about the dress. The car. The night.
“You wore the black,” he comments.
I glance down at the dark green fabric. In the dim lighting, I suppose it looks almost black. “The green one, actually. Thank you. Or should I thank a personal shopper?”
He turns away from me, jaw working. “You’re welcome.”
The ride to the hotel is quiet. I open and close my clutch twice to double-check I brought my phone, just to have something to do other than glancing over at Anthony.
Long fingers drum against his thigh when the car pulls up outside the hotel. Is he nervous? I am.
“We’re here,” I say.
He nods and gets out of the car, his jaw working again when he comes to my side and finds me already on the curb. He buttons his dinner jacket and extends an arm to me. “Let’s get this over with.”
I take his arm and make it my personal mission to get one smile out of him tonight. Just one.
“A charity auction,” I say. “Will guests be bidding on luxury items?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have your eye on anything in particular? Oh, look, they have a brochure.”
His voice is dry as he hands me a glossy pamphlet. “I suppose I have to buy something, but I haven’t looked.”
“Youhaveto buy something?”
“As one of the partners of Acture, I’m technically a co-owner of Exciteur.”
I swallow. “Right. The consulting firm throwing this party.”
“Yes.” Anthony steers us through the open double-doors and into a bustling ballroom. A string quartet plays from a podium, soft music permeating the air. Anthony’s tux blends right in, and thankfully, so does my dress. I’m glad I didn’t go for the red one.
“So?” I ask him. “What’s the charitable cause they’re raising money for?”
He’s quiet for a beat. “I don’t remember.”
Unable to help myself, I laugh. “You were really involved with the planning for this, weren’t you?”
“I had my hands full with all of your dates,” he says.
“Two measly dates took up that much of your time?”
“There was a lot of prep work,” he says. “Takes me hours to get ready for a date.”
My eyebrows rise and then I burst out laughing. His rough, scowling handsomeness is entirely natural. I wondered if he even runs a brush through that thick, dark hair of his. Not that he needs to.
Anthony looks away, but not before I catch a faint tug at his lips.Almost. “Let me get you something to drink. Champagne?”
“Yes, please.”
A few minutes later, the two of us lean against the bar in the corner of the ballroom. He’d opted for a brandy and has a crystal tumbler in hand.
