Chapter Fifteen
Cris
I’m sun-kissed and smiling after having bought a dress on a complete whim.
I packed a simple black frock I’ve worn over and over again, but it didn’t feel like the right dress to wear to the event. Even though we haven’t gone “all the way,” being physical with Benji has made me more aware of my body. After he applied the sunscreen in our room, watching unabashedly as I tied the strings on my teeny bikini, I realized I finally have someone to dress up for. A plain black dress wasn’t going to cut it tonight.
I hug the dress bag to my chest and smile to myself as I step into the elevator. I can’t wait to surprise him when I show up in this hot little number. A woman steps in after me, and it takes me all of a nanosecond to recognize the director of the event: Marla Hearst.
“Cris!” She regards me from her height. But then, I’m petite, so everyone is tall to me. It’s no wonder why he went out with her casually once or twice. She’s beautiful and professional.
“Marla. Hi. I didn’t expect you to be at the Crane Hotel.” I expected her to stay where the event was being held. Or maybe hoped is a better word.
“Ugh. No. I prefer to stay offsite. It’s so wonderful to see you. Looks like you’ve been enjoying the sun. You’re almost sunburned.” She wrinkles her pert nose. “I hope the garment in that bag isn’t red or pink. It’ll make your face look the same color.”
I try to hold my smile while my stomach flips. The dress I bought for tonight is red. I glance down at the opaque bag in my arms and pray she’s wrong. Steamed lobster wasn’t the look I was going for.
“My dress is cool blue,” she continues with an elegant sweep of her hand before pressing the elevator button for her floor—one below mine. “Cool tones of blue and green are the rage right now. Who decides this stuff?” She laughs heartily. I echo her laughter, or try to anyway. It’s hard to be jovial after learning I dropped way too much money on a dress that isn’t “all the rage” this season.
The doors slide open and she leaves the elevator, turning to wiggle her fingers in a wave. Before the doors shut, she catches them with manicured fingernails and pokes her face through the gap. “I have a few things for you to handle if you’re available. As Benji’s assistant, you’re always so organized. I’ll email you! See you tonight.”
She’s gone before I can argue I’m not working tonight. I frown down at the garment bag, feeling like a soot-covered Cinderella who’s been swamped with menial tasks moments before the ball.
With a sigh, I step out of the elevator on the top floor and angle toward the suite. Benji is sliding in the key card as I approach.
“How did I beat you up here?” His eyes go to the garment bag in my arms. “Shopping spree?”
“Something like that. I’m going to return it. It was spur-of-the-moment, anyway.” I turn on my heel for the elevator, but he catches my elbow.
“Not before I see it. You almost didn’t wear the bikini, and you looked amazing in it.”
I admit, that was nice to hear.
He pushes open the suite door and gestures for me to walk in ahead of him. I do, unsure how I feel about tonight. About being his date. About Marla. About the red dress or my red skin. How did a run-in with someone he had a romantic encounter with throw me off so completely? It shouldn’t matter. There’s no reason to behave like a jealous girlfriend when I’m not his girlfriend.
Neither should it have mattered when I saw him with Trish. And that mattered way too much. I need to screw my head on straight before I let what we’re doing mean something it shouldn’t. It’s as easy as making a decision.
And so, I decide.
“Honestly, this dress is a tad fancy for this event.”
“What color is it?” He hoists an eyebrow, which makes him look rakish.
“Red.”
“Do you like it?”
“Well, yes, of course. That’s why I bought it.”
“Then wear it. Tonight’s special. Or have you forgotten?”
Rather than admit the surrendering of my virginity was the last thing on my mind when I ran into his supermodel ex who was content to treat me like I was “the help,” I say, “Of course I haven’t forgotten.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, widening his stance. “Let’s see it.”
I press the plastic closer, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s just a dress.”
“It’s a red dress. A woman buys a red dress because she’s feeling sexy. Why don’t you try it on for me? I’ll give you my honest opinion.”