Emerson said nothing, just nodded slowly.
“Well, as you can guess, he thought that I would be taking you. That we were . . . a couple.”
“You don’t have to say it like that.” Emerson winked at me. “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent date—fake or not.”
“Well, I need a fake one,” I told him, wanting to be clear. “But I need you to pretend that we are dating. That we’re together.”
Emerson leaned forward, his elbows on the bar.
“How together are we?” he asked, his voice going low and husky.
Heat spread through me, and I tried to focus on the topic at hand, not on the way his eyes kept dropping down to my lips.
“Together enough that I would bring you to a party to meet my co-workers,” I said. “My firm is a little . . . old fashioned. Apparently being a single woman doesn’t fit into the corporate culture there.”
“So this is just to convince your bosses that you’re not single?”
I nodded. “Besides, you owe me.”
His eyebrows went up. “Oh, I do?”
“For the noise.” I gestured at the bar. “For keeping me up.”
Emerson grinned at me. “I guess I do.”
“So, Saturday night then?” I asked, feeling relieved. “I can meet you here at seven?”
“Sure,” Emerson said, but before I could turn away, his hand had reached out and grabbed mine.
His skin was warm, and I felt heat rush through me. It was as if the whole world slowed around us and it was just me and Emerson. Nothing else. I felt my breath leave my lungs as he ran his thumb across my palm.
“For the record . . .” Emerson’s eyes were intense, focused on mine. “I would have said yes. No matter what.”
7
Alex
I was nervous. I didn’t have any reason to be nervous, but I couldn’t help it. Tonight had to go well. I was pretty confident in my own abilities to schmooze and make small talk with my co-workers, but how would Emerson do? Would he have anything in common with stuffy lawyer-types, or would they look down their noses at him, the way they did to everyone—including me sometimes?
But it was too late to do anything about it. My firm had all but demanded I bring a date—and I was bringing a date.
At least I didn’t have to worry about what to wear.
I pulled out my trusty Donna Karan little black wrap dress—the one I had found five years ago in a consignment shop for a steal. It was my go-to outfit for any semi-fancy work functions—one that I could change up with jewelry and shoes. I wrestled my blonde hair into a sleek twist and applied some makeup. Nothing too outrageous—if anything, I needed to look generic and respectable. That meant nude lips, minimal eyeliner, and just a hint of blush. I added some faux diamond studs to my ears and slipped into my trusty black pumps, and I looked like I was ready. For a funeral.
Exactly how I had intended to look.
Even though it was spring, I grabbed my black pashmina and headed downstairs to meet Emerson. Construction was still in full swing, so I wove carefully through the sawdust and noise, hoping that Emerson was dressed appropriately for the evening.
When I spotted him, all of my fears dropped away, replaced by something a little more intense. Because he was dressed perfectly for the event, in a suit with a tie. He even had a pocket square and cufflinks. And he looked good.
Really, really good.
The suit, which was black, fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His shirt was light gray with a patterned black tie—but subtly patterned, nothing that would make him look out of place among my co-workers. His hair was combed, but still had a hint of unruliness.
He was delicious.
Well, technically, he was leaning over the bar, examining a document. He hadn’t noticed me yet. I sidled up to him, the click of my heels on the hardwood floors muffled by sound of construction.
“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” I purred, once I had gotten close enough.
Emerson jumped in surprise, and I laughed.
“Getting the shit scared out of me, apparently,” he said, smiling as he turned to face me.
But the smile faded as he got his first look at me.
“Wow.” He let out a low whistle. “You look gorgeous.”
I could feel my blush rising from my chest, up my neck and across my cheeks. The look in his eyes practically set me on fire—all hunger and lust—exactly the way you wanted your date to look at you.
Too bad this was all pretend.
“You look pretty good yourself,” I managed, my voice husky.
“Thanks.” Emerson kept staring at me, his eyes sweeping up and down, as if he was imagining what I was wearing underneath my simple black dress.
For a brief moment I thought of informing him about my black lace bra and matching thong. But I knew that doing so would be setting us down a dangerous road. A sexy, hot road, but a dangerous one.
“Shall we go?” I asked.
Emerson blinked, as if trying to rid himself of his own naughty thoughts.
“I’m ready when you are,” he told me.
We headed out of the bar, and as we left, he put his hand on my lower back to guide me around some of the construction. I could feel the heat of his palm all the way through my dress. It was warm outside, but I shivered. His touch—just that simple gesture—was electric.
“I thought we’d grab a cab or a Lyft,” I said, moving away from his hand and heading in the direction of the main street.
But Emerson pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “I can drive,” he offered, and led me to where a surprisingly sleek car was waiting. I didn’t know much about cars, but I glimpsed a Lexus badge before he opened the passenger door for me and slid inside.
His car was nice. Much nicer than what I expected a scruffy bar manager to own, not even including the fact that parking could be so bad in the Loop that owning a car was a bit of a luxury in and of itself.
Combined with the gorgeous suit that Emerson just apparently had at the ready, it was clear he had plenty for me still to figure out.
“So,” he said as we pulled away from the curb. “What do I need to know? And whose rings do we need to kiss?”
I laughed. “I guess you know how these kinds of parties work then?”
He nodded. “I’ve known a few lawyers in my time,” he commented vaguely. “The guy we met the other night, is he your boss?”
“One of them,” I confirmed. “He’s one of the partners, but I’ve done most of my work directly underneath him. I’m up for an associate position at the firm, but there are three of us in the running, and only one position available.” I glanced over at him, drinking in his handsome profile. “Parties like these are really important for our visibility at the firm. I really appreciate you coming with me,” I said sincerely, not sure if I had said it yet. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, reaching over and patting my hand.
There was that heat again. I was torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to intertwine our fingers together. Luckily I didn’t have to make a decision, because Emerson’s hand was back on the wheel before I could.
“Who’s the competition for your spot?” Emerson asked.
I filled him in on all the details as we headed towards the party. Told him about Lucinda and Bryce, about the other partners and various other co-workers. I tried not to overwhelm him with information, but he seemed to soak it all up, nodding along as I explained office dynamics.
“And how serious is this?” he gestured between us.
I paused. I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to tell people about Emerson. Lying never felt like a good thing to do to my co-workers, but I was already elbow-deep in this lie. What were a few more little omissions or fibs?
“We’ve been together since the New Year,” I told him. “That will explain why I didn’t bring you to the office Christmas party.”
He nodded. “So it’s new.”
“But we’re both committed to it,” I added. “We’re on the same track, so to speak.”
“So it’s pretty serious,” Emerson clarified.
“Serious enough that I’m bringing you to the party.”
I got the feeling that the only thing worse than not bringing a date to tonight’s party would have been to bring a guy that I was only casually dating. That would give the wrong impression of me to my apparently old-fashioned partners.
We pulled up in front of the restaurant. I took a deep breath, but before I could get out of the car, Emerson grabbed my arm.
“You’re going to do great,” he told me.
It was reassurance I hadn’t even known I had needed, but in that moment I was grateful for it. For him. I gave him a smile, and we headed inside.
Everyone was wearing black. Emerson and I fit right in, though my earrings might have been considered flashy in a crowd that seemed to favor no jewelry or adornments of any kind. The only women who were wearing any kind of color—whether it was their shoes or a brightly colored lipstick—were some of the secretaries, who had apparently decided to let loose on the weekend.
A waiter walked by with champagne, and Emerson snagged us two glasses.
“One drink,” I told him, knowing that getting drunk, or even tipsy, at this party, would be a major no-no.
“What, you mean we’re all not going to get hammered and wind up at karaoke?” Emerson teased. “He looks like he could do a mean Jay-Z.”
He nodded to Wilberson Farhydt IV, our ancient head of property law, and I nearly spluttered into my champagne.
“Emerson!” I hissed, giving him a nudge.
Emerson grinned back. “Relax, sweetheart. I can play by the rules.”
I took a breath to recover and looked around. The event was being hosted at a fancy hotel, with chandeliers glittering overhead and silent waiters making the rounds. Only the best for our firm.
“Alex!” Lucinda appeared out of the crowd, coming towards us.