Page 42 of Drawn to You (Chasing Olivia 1)

“I didn’t have anything in my closet that would have come close to any of these dresses,” I say, motioning to the crowd.

“You’d look fantastic in a paper bag,” he says, his eyes glowing. I blush and take another swig of champagne. He calls over the bartender and mutters something to him. He then grabs my hand. “We should eat. I don’t want you passing out on me later.” His smile is lascivious.

Oh boy.

We make our way back over to our table. When we arrive, there is a fresh scotch and a bottle of Clicquot in a champagne bucket on a stand waiting for us. As we sit, a waiter fills my new glass and places the bottle back in the bucket. Our timing couldn’t have been better since our entrées are being served as we sit.

All of the entrees look delicious, plated to look as appetizing as possible. I could take a picture of my entrée and use it for the cover of Bon Appétit. I take a tentative bite into my Chilean sea bass. Mmm. It tastes as good as it looks. Moist and juicy like good sea bass should. I look over at Chase as he digs into his filet.

A mischievous look in his eye, he whispers, “Bite?” He waves his fork with a sliced piece of filet in the air. How can he make that sound so sexy? He leans over and brings the fork to my mouth. As the filet passes my lips, I hum in pleasure. Chase closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, his dark blue eyes are blazing. “I never thought I would be jealous of a fork.” Flushed, I finish chewing and take a long sip of champagne.

The conversation at the table ebbs and flows. The men are all talking about the Yankees and how they’ll win the pennant this year. Tiffani is carrying on to Margaret about some new fashion designer that has Gabriella in a tizzy. I sit there eating my dinner, fascinated by all of the largesse.

Chase squeezes my hand and brings me back to the here and now. “You okay?” I nod and smile. “I told you these events were boring.”

“No, I’m having a great time.”

“Are you sure? We can go anytime.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never been to such a fancy event.”

‘They’re all the same. Same boring people, same boring conversation.” His mouth quirks up into a smile. “You are the highlight of my evening.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and places gentle kisses across my knuckles. His eyes are burning with an intensity I haven’t yet seen. He takes my breath away.

The waiters all swoop down onto the table to clear our entrées as one unified front. There is nothing left on the table once they are done. Another round of waiters resets the table for coffee and dessert. It’s amazing how fast they turned a dirty table into one that looks as if i

t had never been used.

The head waiter brings a selection of expensive brandy’s and other cordials and places them in the center of the table. Chase reaches for the 150 year old Grand Marnier Cuvée du Cent Cinquentenaire. I never was a big fan of orange brandy. He turns to me. “What would you like?”

“I’m fine with this,” I murmur. Although I’m feeling a bit light headed, coffee might be a good idea. “Maybe I’ll have a Sambuca Romano with an espresso.”

He motions the waiter and orders us both an espresso. I am definitely feeling the effects of the champagne as my head starts to spin. The waiter brings us both a double espresso from the dessert table and places the cups down in front of us. Chase reaches for the Sambuca and pours it into my aperitif glass. He raises his Grand Marnier in a private toast. Looking at me in adoration, he toasts just loud enough for me to hear him. “To a beautiful evening with an even more beautiful woman. Cheers.” His toast makes me smile. We clink glasses and take sips of our drinks.

I down the espresso, feeling I need to sober up. He looks over, an amused look on his face. He shakes his head and sips on his aperitif.

“I see you’re a lightweight,” he chuckles.

“I don’t normally drink champagne,” I profess.

“Neither do I. It’s too girly.”

“Girly?” I giggle.

“Yes, girly.”

“Is girly even a word?”

He scratches his chin deep in thought, a smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know. It sounds appropriate though,” he teases. I can’t help but laugh at his playfulness.

“I prefer white wine or a light beer. Hard liquor gives me an awful headache the next day.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

Taking a sip of my aperitif, I notice that the orchestra has begun playing again.

“Dance with me,” he says his voice husky.

Not a great idea. “I can’t dance.”

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