Love in Lingerie(34)
“That’s correct.” Stephen extends his glass and half-rises in his seat.
“To three months, and many more.” Trey lifts his glass, and we toast, my eyes meeting his as our glasses touch. I narrow my eyes slightly but he only smiles. “Congrats, Kate.”
“It’s three months,” I say as sweetly as I can manage. “Not exactly toast-worthy.” We all return to our seats and I watch Chelsea cup both sides of her wine glass as if it’s a warm mug of coffee. I don’t need to ask how long they have been dating. I can tell you that with psychotic clarity. Two and a half months. Two weeks after Stephen and I became official, she showed up at the office, a Kate Spade slung over her shoulder, yoga pants and a midriff-baring tank top on. She had waved a cheery hello at me and bounced into Trey’s office, his door quickly shut, blinds drawn. Apparently Trey hadn’t wanted to hire her, yet had wanted to rekindle their past. I had stared at an inventory report and tried to think of anything other than what was happening in there. It had been the longest twenty-two minutes of my life. And that afternoon, after he’d taken a ninety-minute-lunch with her, when I had asked him about it? He had only shrugged. She’s fun, he had said. When I’d asked him if he liked her, he had cocked an eyebrow at me and questioned if we were all still in high school. Since then, I’ve kept my Chelsea questions to myself.
It’s strange, seeing him in this role, seeing the tenderness come through all of the layers of playboy. How he sweeps a loose tendril of her hair and tucks it into her braid. How he lowers his head to listen to her words, and watches her when she walks through the room. I’ve had his undivided attention for so long—seeing it directed at another woman is disconcerting. I feel lost when I look at him and don’t have his gaze, when I say something to him and it takes a moment to get his attention. I reach under the table and slide my hand into Stephen’s, needing to feel something, a connection, filled with a sudden yearning to be held, cupped against a man’s chest, the feel of arms wrapped around me. Stephen’s arms, I remind myself, lifting my eyes from Trey’s hand, from the slow slide of his index finger around the lip of his bread plate. I move my gaze up Trey’s chest, his jacket open, his dark V-neck shirt snug to his body, light stubble across his neck and jaw. His lips twitch and I flip my gaze to his eyes. They study me, and there is a moment where I can’t swallow, where a bit of bread just sits on my tongue. He slowly palms his glass, and I can only watch as he lifts it to his mouth. The simple act of sipping a drink shouldn’t be seductive, it shouldn’t make a woman clench her thighs or swallow in need. I’m suddenly thirsty, and hot, and I look away, reaching for my ice water, smiling when Stephen glances my way.
Chelsea asks me something about my dress, and I answer, forcing myself to meet her eyes, to respond in kind, to have some stupid conversation about an episode of The View, one I haven’t seen but that she seems desperate to chat about.
“We’re going to Exuma at the end of the month,” Trey cuts in smoothly. “You two should join us.”
“They have wild pigs there,” she says excitedly. “You can swim with them.”
“Pigs?” I ask dubiously. “Is that sanitary?”
“They’re very clean,” she informs me, leaning forward, her voice dropping, as if this is a secret of some sort. “They have an Instagram account; I can send you the link.” I don’t tell her that I’m not on Instagram, or that I have little interest in swimming with an animal that I’m minutes away from eating. I simply nod, look for the waiter, and regret agreeing to this dinner to begin with.
“What do you think, Kate?” Trey settles back in his chair, and his foot bumps mine. “Exuma? You and Steve?”
“The end of the month?” I look up to the ceiling. “I think…” I look to Stephen for rescue. “Isn’t that when we’re going to your parents?”
He misses my cue but brightens up at the thought of me and his parents, an introduction he has been pushing for weeks. When he nods, I frown at Trey, painting my features with as much regret as I can muster. “Maybe next time,” I say, and he holds my gaze for a moment before he turns to Stephen.
“Steve, Kate says that you’re an oral surgeon.”
“It’s Stephen,” I interrupt, irritated when Stephen waves off the nickname, his shoulders hunching forward as he launches into his spiel on tooth maintenance and root canal procedures. I glance at Chelsea, who is studying her menu. I watch her hand leave one edge of the menu as she reaches under the table, my eyes zeroing in on a movement that has Trey pausing mid-sentence. She glances up, catches me watching, and colors slightly, her hand returning to the menu, the linen paper flipped over as she stares at the wines.
Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe behind her blushes and soft words, she’s a super freak. Something had to cause him to hop on the dating bandwagon after so many years of being single. I look at my own menu and try to push out the thought of what her hand encountered, what he feels like through his slacks, and if he had hardened under her touch. I flush and stare at the list of entrees. Yeah. We’re definitely not going to Exuma. A full weekend with them would be pure hell.
“So, I’ve got to tell you, Steve.” Trey sets down his glass and I sense the danger before he even reopens his mouth. “I’ve always wondered if Kate is as much of a hard ass in relationships as she is at the office.”