Page 76 of When the Fake Snow Falls

I try to bite back my smile but fail. “I would. Thank you.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his knee bouncing slightly like he doesn’t know what to do with me, and I love seeing him unravel. With his voice low again, he says, “Keepsitting there looking sweet and unsuspecting. I’m the only one who gets to know how wicked you are.”

“No promises,” I say with a hint of a smile.

Chase keeps his eyes on me for another beat before blowing out a breath, adjusting himself, and getting to his feet. He walks away, as I shamelessly enjoy the view, and when he looks back at me, he just shakes his head again and runs a hand through his hair.

“You two make the cutest couple,” the woman, Dawn, says fondly. “How long have you been together?”

I blink, trying to remember what Chase and I agreed on. I figured he’d be able to answer these questions, but I’m on my own for this one. “Oh. It’s new. I met him a few weeks ago.”

“Well, he looks absolutely smitten.” Her smile is warm, and I have to admit, it feels good to have someone rooting for Chase and me in this hypothetical relationship.

“He’s a great guy,” I say with a nod, suddenly feeling shyer than I have all night.

“He is,” Brittany says. “I think every single woman in the office has hoped to catch Chase’s attention—maybe some of the married ones, too. I mean, it’s not every day you find a successful, single guy who looks like that.” She nods in the direction Chase went, and I look over my shoulder to find him returning with our drinks. He sets my wine down in front of me as he slides into his seat, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Everything okay?” I ask quietly, and I’m grateful to hear a new topic of conversation pick up on the other end of the table.

He glances between me and the cup in front of him. “Yeah . . .” The corners of his lips dip. “Have you talked to anyone else here tonight?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve been here with you the whole time.”

He nods. “That’s what I thought. It’s just . . .” He shakes his head. “My boss thinks you made an interesting choice?”

I frown. “What interesting choice did I make?” Is she judging my dress?

“I think she was referring to me, but she made herself busy before I could ask.”

“You’re my interesting choice?” I ask with a breath of laughter.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at his drink, turning the glass on the table as he tries to piece it all together.

I put a hand on his leg, and he finally looks at me, his hand stilling. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks, right? I’m just here so she can’t drunkenly corner you.”

His mouth quirks. “Oh, you’re doing much more than that.” He lets out a light laugh. “I haven’t decided which is more dangerous. Being cornered by her”—he nods in the direction he came from—“or wanting to be cornered by you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You want to be cornered by me?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “Especially now that I know . . .” He gestures toward me with his drink still in hand, pausing when his eyes drop to where the slit of my dress rests. He shakes his head. “I would like that very much.” Taking a sip of his drink, he sets it down on the table in front of him before resting his arm on the back of my chair and bringing his lips to my ear. “I hope you know I won’t be able to think straight for the rest of the night.”

Instead of explainingwhyI showed up here wearing nothing under my dress, I kiss him. It’s a kiss like any happy couple might share at a table, but the way Chase’s hand grips the back of my neck makes me wish it could be more.

“Good evening! It’s so lovely to see you all here,” booms a woman’s voice over the microphone.

Wait. I know that voice.

I turn to see the speaker at the front of the room, and myheart jolts in my chest. I know that face—that hair. I know that feline elegance and subtle arch to her brow. I know the dissatisfied purse to her lips right before she knows you’re about to cave and give her whatever she wants. I know the power she loves having over people—people like me. People like Chase.

Every bit of heat from that last kiss turns to icy dread. I look at the man next to me. Gone is the playful demeanor I’ve grown to love. In its place, I find a clenched jaw and stern gaze as he looks toward the front of the room.

Nicolette stands in front of the mic wearing a stunningly elegant gold dress practically made of glitter, and even though she just addressed the whole room, her eyes are locked on me.

“That,” Chase says, leaning in, “is my boss.”

thirty-five

My client.My best payingclientis his boss. Of course, she is. The universe would have been too generous to make this simple. Chase’s fingers trail over my exposed back as she talks, but I can barely feel it. This new realization demands all of my attention.

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