At the theater, an attendant escorts us to our private seats. Everything is covered in deep shades of plum, blood red, and ocean blue. There’s a small table with a bottle of wine and two glasses, the bouquet of red roses, and two large upholstered chairs.
“These seats are unreal,” Chloe says, looking at the stage in front of us while I take in the full image of her. The dress ends a modest distance above her knees and has a sexy yet demure cut in the back that reveals a slender patch of her spine. Her heels are thin and high, and when she turns around with her lower lip tucked between her teeth, all I can think about is hiking her dress up and slamming into her again.
The attendant offers to open the champagne, reminding me of his presence.
“Yeah. That would be lovely, thank you.” I step aside to give him easier access to pass and slide Chloe’s chair back. Folded over her arm is the jacket I told her to bring. I hadn’t considered it would be so small.
She smiles at me as she takes a seat while our champagne glasses are filled.
The attendant pulls our curtain closed behind him, leaving Chloe and me alone in the small space. I release the buttons of my suit jacket and take a seat in the chair beside her. There’s a twinge of awkwardness as we’re both reminded how often we avoided spending time together like this for so long. She smiles shyly, setting her jacket down beside her. “How did things go today? Did anything seem amiss?”
I lean close to her, catching her lips in a kiss that is soft and gentle, an I’ve-missed-you kiss that quickly progresses into an I-want-you kiss as my tongue dances with hers, her nails raking over the short sides of my hair, drawing me closer as my fingers curl around the back of her neck, and my other hand goes to her waist, wanting little more than to pull her into my lap, lower my zipper, and have her ride me.
The lights flash with a warning that the show will be starting soon, and Chloe’s kisses grow gentler before she pulls back, her green eyes shining with a desire that has me struggling to remain in my seat.
She rubs her lips together, reaching for her champagne. “I’m glad to see you as well.” Her lips curl around the glass, creating an entirely new provocative thought. “What are your plans while we’re in California? Will you have to work most of the time?”
I blink through my lust, attempting to focus on the question and my upcoming calendar. “I have a meeting on Wednesday morning and then again Friday morning.”
“All day again, like today?”
I gently lift my shoulder, uncertain. “I’m hoping not. This was painfully long because there was a lot to discuss, and one of the managers couldn’t understand me—claimed my accent was too thick.”
She belts out a laugh that makes her nose crinkle in one of my favorite expressions of hers because it’s pure and unedited. “How did you guys manage?” She runs her tongue along her top lip, not even realizing the effect it has on me.
“We had to wait for someone to come and be my translator.”
Her shoulders shake with a gentle laugh. “But it all went okay? No issues?”
I reach for my glass of champagne, drinking half of it with one swig. “The hotel paid to be fully re-carpeted. It was a few hundred thousand dollars, and the work hasn’t been done, and it’s been over eighteen months.”
Chloe’s eyes round before she blinks. “Is that normal?”
“It’s not uncommon for charges to be made in a separate calendar year for tax purposes, but eighteen months is on the cusp of being suspicious.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you with this.”
I don’t mention that the figures are minuscule enough that it doesn’t raise any alarms and wouldn’t make much of a difference; it’s a matter of principle and trust that has me following up on this—respect because there are few things as important to me as the hotel’s running successfully and fluidly. “I just want you to enjoy your time.”
“You go to work, and I play all day. Pretty sure you don’t need to be worrying about me enjoying myself. But, I have done a ton of research on California, and if you’re able to get off at a reasonable time on Wednesday, I’m planning a date. A Robinson style date, which—warning—will likely consist of a food truck and something outdoors.”
“You aren’t going to get us lost in some desert, are you?”
Her mouth falls agape. “They didn’t mark the trail!” she cries out.
I bend at the waist, laughing away the rest of the stress I’ve felt all day in my shoulders. “It’s a date,” I tell her.
“And…” she continues. “I told Coop to invite you a few weeks ago, but just in case Mr. Forgetful forgot to mention it, I have tickets for all of us to go to a cocktail event in San Francisco before the meteor shower. It’s going to be a total geekfest with lots of astronomy students and professors and some renowned scientists, and the food is likely going to be awful compared to what we’ve been having, but—”
I interrupt her with a kiss as the lights begin to dim. “I wouldn’t miss it,” I tell her.
She flashes a smile that steals my breath—it’s adoration with a shot of appreciation that reminds me how it’s always been time that she appreciates most, which is why in each city she’s made an effort to get us to do things all together.
The lights fall even lower, and the orchestra begins to play. Chloe slides over in her chair, sitting as close as she can, considering the expansive chairs. I set my right hand on her thigh, and she reaches for my left hand, placing it on my right thigh and weaving our fingers together. I press a kiss
