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“How much do they cost?” She nibbled at her bottom lip, looking around the room. A waiter approached, a tray balanced on his palm.
“Nothing,” I told her. “The food is included in the cost of the ticket. Have at it.”
“I can just take one? They aren’t orders?”
“All for you,” I reassured her, unable to fight a grin.
Relief flooded her face, and she pressed a hand to her cleavage as she intersected the nearest waiter. “Excuse me, sir? Could I bother you for a sample?”
The black-tie waiter paused in his rounds as Jessa plucked a cocktail napkin and one perfect, recently-shelled shrimp off the tray. Her eyes were wide as saucers.
“This looksfresh,” she said. “Not at all like the little pink things you get from the Sav-A-Lot.”
“Those are bonafide Gulf shrimp,” I told her, unable to pry my eyes off her as she nibbled at it. She licked her lips a moment later.
“Oh my god. The sauce is spicy. My mouth is on fire already.”
I signaled for another waiter, grabbing whatever drink was on his tray. A champagne flute. I lifted it in her direction. “We have this on standby if it gets too hot.”
She giggled, took another bite, some of the sauce smearing on her lip. “I’m ruining the fancy event ten minutes in, aren’t I?”
She had no idea how cute she looked. Dolled up to perfection, delighted by one spicy shrimp. I couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Luckily you’re allowed to eat at these things.”
Jessa took the last bite, moaning appreciatively.Thatwasn’t what I usually heard at events like this. I flexed my jaw, watching as her tongue swiped out over her juicy pink lip, lapping up the orange sauce.
“Okay, I think I’m ready for that drink now,” she said with a laugh. I handed it over to her, gobbling up the display as she daintily lifted the rim to her lips, pinky in the air, and sipped.
“You’re a natural,” I commented, finally able to rip my gaze off her face. She’d always been too easy to look at, to get lost in. I could have spent the next two weeks watching her lick orange sauce off her damn lips. “You ready for work now or do you need some more shrimp?”
She wilted ever so slightly. “I shouldn’t. If I eat another, I’ll eat thirty more. And then I’d still need dessert on top of that. Damian, I’m in New York City—I need to eat like a supermodel.”
“It’s not as glamorous as it might sound,” I told her. “It’s mostly celery.”
She huffed. “I can’t do celery. It’s like biting water with hair in it. So yeah, I better get another shrimp.” She swooped toward the nearest waiter, plucking another shrimp from the platter, more confident and experienced than the first time around. “So much for the supermodel diet. That idea lasted five seconds.”
I watched as she polished off the next shrimp with an appreciative moan. I hated how much I enjoyed this. “You ready?”
“Never. Not when there’re so many tempting appetizers around me.”
I bit my lip, fighting the smile that threatened to overtake me. Jessa rummaged through her handbag, producing a sleek tablet. I surveyed the room, discretely waving over another waiter. His tray held stuffed mushrooms, and I suspected Jessa would enjoy those too.
“All right. Let me just get out my brand-new tablet so I can take notes,” she murmured as she turned it on, swiping through screens. “My new boss just got it for me, ain’t he a peach?”
“He’s some type of fruit,” I returned, “but not sure he’s a peach.”
“Oh, is he a fruit?” Genuine curiosity swarmed in her eyes as she looked up at me. “I didn’t take you for the fruit-pickin’ kind.”
“Maybe a tomato,” I offered, seeing where she was going with it and wanting to steer it back to clarity. Even though it shouldn’t matter to me if she got the wrong idea. In fact, it would bebetterif she got the wrong idea. “Acidic. Powerful. The base of whatever dish you’re putting together.”
She blinked a couple times, nodding. “That sounds about right.”
The waiter approached with his tray of stuffed mushrooms. I nodded toward Jessa. “What about these?”
Her eyes lit up and she plucked one off the tray. “Damian Fairchild, are you trying to distract me? It’s my second week on the job and I still need to prove myself. My tomato of a boss might fire me if I don’t.”
I couldn’t contain the grin this time. It was too easy with her, with the back-and-forth, the jokes, the whimsical way we could sit here and say nothing and everything all at once. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done this with anyone other than Trace or Axel.
I plucked a mushroom off the tray for myself. Our gazes met and we popped them into our mouths at the same time, watching each other as we chewed.
