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His left eyebrow twitches upward. “You seem kinda wigged out.”
“Psh,” I mutter, swiping the air. “Totallynotwigged.”
Yes, yes I am.
This is the last place I should be when I’m already hot and bothered. I can foresee another night with Enigma coming up.
“Well, should we decide on a theme?” London suggests.
I nod, reaching for my briefcase and pulling out the suggestions I have prepared for just this occasion. “I’ve already done some brainstorming. What do you think of these?” I hand him the paper.
He takes it from me, his eyes floating over the page. His gaze narrows a couple of times before he sets it in his lap and looks up at me.
“Any of those seem like a fit?” I ask, biting my lip.
He leans back, placing his arm on the back of the couch. “I mean, I like the idea of a masquerade ball or the jungle theme. I’m not sure they’re quite right though. Especially if we’re trying to incorporate food.”
“True, the jungle theme was a little out there. I thought it would be fun to bring in some elements that pull them out of their normal Minnesota or Wisconsin weather. You know? Nothing screams sexy more than being in a hot, sticky climate where your clothes cling to your body and you strip down to the bare essence,” I respond, trying to justify the concept for some bizarre reason.
He inhales sharply, shifting in his seat. “True. I like that concept, but not jiving with the jungle. It feels too‘welcome to the wild’if you know what I mean. Some of the invites are going out to people who haven’t been here before, so we need it to be more inviting for this event. Moreintimate.”
I glance up at the word intimate, catching what I swear is heat hidden in his eyes.
He likes things intimate.
I don’t know why that does things to my stomach, but it’s ready to drop out of my body again.
Blowing out a breath, I whisper, “What about a sensual garden? We could still bring in beautiful plants and flowers—ones that have a romantic, aphrodisiac vibe like orchids and Asiatic lilies.”
A slow grin breaks his features. “I like the sound of that.”
“Which part?” I ask, feeling like there was a hidden meaning in his answer.
“All of it,” he says, but after a second he whispers, “But especially the lilies. It’s like your calling card, letting everyone know you were a part of the event.”
My cheeks warm and I glance down at my lap. “That’s not what I was—”
“I know. Lily. I like it. That’s all,” he says, placing his index finger under my chin and lifting up so I look at him. “What else?”
I think about that for a second. What could make it more intimate?
Then, the idea comes to me. It’s like a rush of energy and my entire body feels like a live wire.
“We could incorporate blindfolds or masks,” I say. He opens his mouth to respond, but I hold out my hand to cut him off. “Hear me out. These are people who have never been here. They’re nervous. They’re hurt by love. What if they start the night totally shrouded.”
“What about the food part?” he asks skeptically, his eyes searching mine for the answers.
“It could all be finger foods. Things that are easy to pick up and feed each other with,” I say, excitement building in me. “Strawberries dipped in chocolate. Watermelon. That sort of thing.”
“It’s an interesting concept. They’d have to connect on a deeper level. We could have them circle the room so they have a few minutes with everyone there. Or we could pick their match for them for the night. It could even force them to lean into a bit of trust if the people around them are the ones feeding them. Would they be able to take the masks or blindfolds off? It kind of negates the lush garden vibes if they don’t,” he asks, the excitement sparking in his eyes mirroring my own.
I nod. “I was thinking the same thing. They have to get through dinner and dessert before they can take things off. But only if they want to.”
“If we can instigate the right vibe, it sounds incredibly sexy,” London admits, his voice gruff.
A sly grin floats to my lips. “Isn’t that the point?”
He holds my gaze for what feels like forever. There’s something unspoken hidden their depths and it takes everything in me not to fidget.
