“This is not my scene, Nick.”
I pictured the droves of celebrities, dancing and laughing and drinking just a stone’s throw away. Pictured the Nobel laureates and foreign leaders. Then I pictured my little apartment in Brooklyn. I pictured the place I was going back to the second I took off this dress.
“Not your scene?” he repeated, shaking his head incredulously. “Abby, you and I have gone to things like this a million times before. What’s so different about it now?”
“It’s different because I’m not going as your publicist. I’m going as your girlfriend.” I shifted nervously amongst the coats and jackets, wishing I was back in the limo. “I keep feeling like they’re going to see through it somehow. Toss me out and brand me for being a member of working class.”
I was only half-joking, but Nick threw back his head and laughed like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Abigail Wilder,” he shook his head, trying to control his smile, “when are you ever going to get it through your thick head?”
I paused uncertainly, staring up at him.
“Get what?”
Without seeming to think about it, he leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose.
“How unspeakably beautiful, lovely, and smart you are.”
For a second, neither one of us moved. We simply stood there, suspended in our own little world as the rest of the party raced on around us. Then, with a touch so light I could barely feel it, Nick slipped his fingers under my coat and slowly slid it off my arms.
Close as we were, he couldn’t hide his soft gasp. Couldn’t hide the look of breathless amazement that transformed his features as his eyes swept over my skin. Couldn’t hide the faint stiffening of his body, as he froze in place.
“Well?” I asked nervously, awaiting the official verdict. “What do you think?”
His senses returned to him, and his lips curved up in a little smile.
“My warrior woman.”
A feeling of deep relief swept through me, and my cheeks flushed with pride. My hips seemed to take on a life of their own, as I swished what little fabric there was back and forth.
His eyes followed every move.
“
That’s all you,” I replied. “You’re the one who picked it.”
I thought this was a perfectly acceptable thing to say, but when nothing but a ringing silence followed the remark, I looked up to see what was going on.
It was like Nick didn’t even hear me. For one of the first times I could remember, my silver-tongued client could think of nothing to say. He was simply standing there, spellbound. Looking very much like a twelve-year-old kid on the playground, caught staring at a girl.
I cleared my throat softly, and he jerked back to attention.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
My cheeks flushed again, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “I said, that you were the one who picked it out. And...thank you. I love it Nick, I really do.”
His eyes literally seemed to glow as they beamed back into mine, holding me there with a kind of magnetism so strong, I didn’t think I could ever escape it.
“I’m glad,” he said softly. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something else, but he dropped his eyes at the last minute. It was then that he realized the obvious problem. “But it’s not the only thing I picked out. The necklace. You didn’t want to wear it?”
“Oh—I almost forgot.” I reached back into the pocket of my coat and pulled it out, holding it incredibly gently in my palm. “I didn’t want to wear it standing out on the curb in Brooklyn. I was worried someone might grab it before Bobby showed up.”
A faint shadow flickered across Nick’s face.
“Do things like that happen a lot around your apartment?”
My eyes squinted in focus, trying to find the clasp.