The Hookup Handbook(44)
I can hardly believe it. Less than thirty days, and he wrote a whole damn book. I practically floated home from the office on cloud nine from the sense of accomplishment. Or maybe it was just leftover endorphins from the mind-blowing sex last night.
Whatever it was, it’s long gone now, replaced with a nervous energy vibrating in the pit of my stomach. I took Case up on his offer to take me out for a celebratory dinner tonight, but now, faced with a closet full of uninspired outfit choices, I’m more nervous than I thought I would be.
As I push back cardigan after unworthy cardigan, my gaze flicks across a familiar bit of black fabric, the sale tags still attached. I unhook the hanger, my brow furrowed in curiosity, and pull from my closet a fitted knee-length black number with a slit cut high enough to turn heads a block away.
Holy sex in a dress. I forgot I owned this.
It was a college purchase, something I bought to wear to my ex’s fraternity formal. I ended up opting for something a bit less revealing after a few too many hours scrolling through Instagram left me feeling too chubby to pull it off. That feeling was so real to me then, but now I see my body differently. It’s a body that’s able to dance and move and brings Case to his knees. Maybe I should finally give this little number the night on the town it deserves.
I slip the dress off the hanger and over my head, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I study my reflection—the clingy fabric hugs my curves in all the right ways. It’s strapless, so I’ll have to go without a bra, but I think with the right amount of confidence, it just might work. But is it too risqué for dinner with the boss?
A quick glance at my phone tells me I don’t have time to think it over. With a pair of killer red high heels and a swipe of lipstick to match, I’m out the door to meet my ride just in time.
Operating under the assumption this is not a date, but just a work event, I told Case I would meet him at the restaurant. Sliding into the back seat, I check the name of the restaurant Case texted me and provide it to the driver.
The driver takes me across town and into the parking lot of a small brick building with big wooden doors and candles flickering in every window. If Case’s goal is to impress me, mission accomplished.
One step through the door, and I’m in awe. All the decor in the restaurant is a rich, velvety maroon, except the tablecloths, which are blindingly white. Each of the small round tables is occupied by a couple dressed to the nines, talking in hushed, syrupy voices. I scan the room, looking to see if Case is already here.
Over the quiet clinking of glasses and tinkling of forks against plates, I hear my name. Case is seated near the window, a fitted sport coat hugging his broad shoulders, a coy smile beckoning me over. He stands up as I approach, pulling me close for a light peck on the cheek. He holds me firmly by the small of my back, his stubble scratching my cheek as he leans in to whisper in my ear.
“You in that dress. Goddamned breathtaking.”
My pulse quickens with every second his lips linger near my neck. His hand keeps its hold on me as he pulls my chair back from the table.
“I’ve been waiting on you to start in on this champagne.”
I’d happily forgo the champagne for a taste of the man who ordered it, but Case guides me to my chair and I comply. My skin is still warm and tingly from where he touched me, even through my dress. But I fix a polite smile on my face.
“Cheers.” Case lifts his champagne flute in the air and I follow suit, letting the bubbles dancing within the glass distract me. “To the two best authors in town.”
“Ahem. The one best author in town and his assistant,” I say, correcting him.
“You know you’re much more than an assistant to me, Sienna,” he says, clinking his glass against mine.
We each take a hearty sip, and I don’t know if the head rush is from him or the champagne, but I never want it to end.
“More than an assistant? Am I supposed to read into that?” I playfully bite my lower lip.
“You can if you want,” Case says with a shrug. “Or you could just let me list you as a coauthor on the book.”
My flirtatiousness disappears at the suggestion. “That’s super sweet of you, Case. But having my name linked to an erotic bestseller probably isn’t the best thing for my budding career as a children’s dance teacher.”
Case sips his champagne through a smirk. “So you think it’s going to be a bestseller?”
“Don’t you? The things you teach in that book? They’re all kinds of life changing.”
“Life changing? Really?” Case’s eyebrows shoot up, and a smug smile spreads across his lips. “I’ve gotten a lot of good reviews from women, but life changing? That’s a new one.”
Heat climbs up my neck and floods my cheeks. “Your book, Case. I was talking about your book.”
“Are you sure?” He shrugs his eyebrows suggestively, which I respond to with a giggle and an eye roll.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“That’s a damn shame.” He leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his suit jacket pulling snugly against his rounded biceps. “Because if you weren’t talking about the book, if you were talking about, say, last night? I would’ve had to say the same about you.”
The fire in my cheeks shoots down to the juncture of my thighs. If there was any remaining question as to whether this is a date or not, there isn’t anymore.