‘Uh… we’ve got this dinner… True North organised it – it’s casual, no biggie.’
‘Uh-huh, sure. So what, like a food truck or something? They give you a panini to go and you wander the streets of Capri in your flip-flops?’
It’s irritating how well she knows me.
‘Fine, it’s at a fancy frigging restaurant and we’re dining at the chef’s table.’
‘So, you’re going on a date with Superman?’
‘He’s more of a Thor than a Superman – and it’s not adate,’ I say, lowering my voice and turning away from the door. If the past few days have taught me anything, this suite isn’t as big as it seems, and Nick could be hearing every word.
‘Okay, then what are you wearing – the black or the floral?’
Thisisa frigging trap because Megan helped me pack, so she knows I only brought two nice dresses: a sexy LDB that I bust out for every industry event shy of the Oscars, and a floaty floral that she strong-armed me into buying because (and I quote), ‘You look cute in it –sexycute.’
It doesn’t matter which one I say – they’re both date dresses. And if I tell her it’s neither – that I bought a new one – that’ll be even more damning in her eyes.
‘Laney?’
Ah, fuck it.‘I bought a new dress. It’s blue,’ I add for some reason.
‘Ah-hah!’
I roll my eyes – exactly as I’d anticipated.
‘Anyway, I’ve gotta go. We’re leaving soon and I haven’t finished my makeup.’
‘Ooh, going with a smoky eye or a bold lip?’ she teases – we both know I don’t do either.
‘Goodbye, Megan.’
I hang up before she can give me more shit, then go back inside.
Nick’s by the bar cart – as inright nearthe open balcony doors – with his back to me.God, I hope he didn’t hear any of that.He smiles over his shoulder.
‘I thought I’d make us a pre-dinner drink.’ He turns and presents me with a limoncello. ‘It’s from the gift pack but no ice, sorry.’
‘That’s okay – thanks,’ I say, accepting it.
Beyond that, I have no words, because he looks incredible. He’s in dark-wash slim-fit jeans – but not the super-tight kind that look lame – a pale-blue linen shirt tucked in, with the sleeves rolled twice, and dark-brown dress shoes and a matching belt. And he’s shaved.Andtamed his thick hair, which is still damp from the shower.
‘You look nice,’ I say, not trusting myself to say more.
‘So do you,’ he says. ‘Sorry – I told you that earlier.’
‘All good,’ I reply with a smile.
He raises his glass, and I clink mine against it. We both take a sip, our eyes meeting over the rims. My stomach could win an Olympic diving competition right now – pike to a double back somersault, triple twist, and a clean entry before I plummet into the depths.
Feelings. Thosearefeelings. And I am running around with a frigging butterfly net.
‘Uh, I just need to finish my makeup,’ I say, tearing my eyes from Nick’s.
‘Oh, I thought you were ready.’
My eyes fly to meet his.
‘You look really pretty.’