“You look nice,” I told him evenly.
The corners of his mouth pulled upward as he nodded. “Would I be elevated to passively good-looking if I bought you a drink?”
I stepped back and looked him up and down. “Turn around,” I requested, gesturing with my finger.
As he obliged, I licked my lips. That suit is made for him. How is he making the suit look even better? The suit is supposed to be making him look better, not the other way around. He has to know a tailor because—
“Well?” he wondered as he grinned, waiting for my results.
I tapped my chin and nodded thoughtfully. “You’re a solid good-looking in that suit.”
“So, that’s a yes to the drink,” he stated, offering me his arm.
I took it and we headed to the bar.
After he ordered a non-alcoholic drink for himself and a cocktail for me, we launched into a lively debate about current songs that would likely stand the test of time. Conversation had been flowing effortlessly when his phone went off.
“Duty calls,” he announced, sitting down his glass.
My eyebrows flew up. “What?”
He held up his phone. “I’m on call and they just hit me up to let me know I have a case to tend to.”
Disappointment flooded me. “Oh wow,” I reacted.
We were having such a good conversation and there was clearly a vibe between us. I didn’t want to spend the next couple days denying the feelings he brought out of me, but we had been talking for about twenty minutes and he hadn’t asked for my number.
Rule Number One, I reminded myself as the knot in my stomach grew.
Shaking it off, I forced a smile on my face and reached out to shake his hand. “Well it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Anderson.”
His bigger hand enveloped my smaller one. “The pleasure has been all mine, Ms. Patterson.” His thumb brushed my skin as our hands shook slowly. “Maybe we can do this again sometime.”
My heart thumped. “Argue about who has better taste in music?”
“Get to know each other better.”
We stared at one another; our hands still connected.
The music and the crowd seemed to be on mute because all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears. There was something otherworldly about the way that man looked at me.
I swallowed hard. “I’d like that.”
“What would be the best way for me to reach you?” he wondered.
“By phone.”
He finally released my hand so he could pull his cell phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?”
I rattled off the digits and he called me.
“Now you have mine, too. Sometime this weekend, when you get a picture of a full bookshelf, you’ll know who and what it is.”
“So, it’ll be you and the results from an internet search,” I joked in response. “Got it.”
With a laugh, he shook his head. “Do you want to bet?” He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Because we can bet.”
“It would depend on the terms.”
“Because you know you’re going to lose.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Because I don’t want to waste my time.”
He held my gaze for a beat too long. “I could go back and forth with you all night.”
Even though I knew he didn’t mean it the way I took it, I couldn’t stop my body from reacting. My stomach fluttered and my skin heated. “I wish we had all night,” I murmured unintentionally.
He brought his head a little closer and his gaze burned into me as he asked, “What was that?”
Ripping my eyes away from his, I cleared my throat lightly. “I said I’ll walk you out.”
“I don’t want to take you away from your party.” He grabbed my hand. “But I appreciate it.”
I nodded, pretending not to be seduced by his touch. “Yeah, okay.”
He raised my hand to his lips and kissed along my knuckles. “Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time.”
“Thank you for the lovely conversation.”
He squeezed my hand gently before he let it go. “Goodnight, Zola.”
“Goodnight, Saint.”
He had taken a couple steps backward before he turned and walked out of the event space. As soon as he pushed the doors open to leave, the music seemed louder. Everyone and everything else came back into focus.
“Who. Was. That?” Kia’s voice startled me.
I swung around. “Who?” I asked, unsure of how long she had been behind me.
“That fine ass man that had you looking like…” She widened her eyes and let her mouth hang open.
My head fell back as a loud laugh erupted out of me. “Shut up! I was not looking like that!”
Kia nodded profusely. “Oh yes, you were. And I get it. He was…” She fanned herself. “But who is he?”
“That was Saint Anderson.”
She gasped. “That was him?!”
I nodded.
“No wonder you couldn’t stop talking about him that night.” She shook her head slowly. “Jeeeeeeeeeeesus.”
“Exactly.”
“So, did he get his act together and ask you out this time?”
“Not exactly…” A smile played on my lips. “But he did ask for my number.”
“Well, that’s a start.” Kia handed me one of the drinks in her hand. “Let’s add that to the list of things to celebrate. Your book is out. You have a bunch of people here to celebrate you. You made contact with that sexy Saint.”
“Cheers to all of that,” I said, clinking glasses with my best friend.
She opened her arms wide. “All of this is for you.”
I grinned. “I’m blessed to have what I have and whatever is for me is for me.” I noticed a handsome man with freckles across the bridge of his nose staring at Kia. “And whatever is for you is for you.”
Confusion wrinkled her forehead. “What?”
“Stone Clayton from Richland Times Dispatch,” I whispered into my glass before taking a gulp.
I moved my eyes in his direction as he walked toward her. When she turned and noticed him, her eyes darted to me and she gave me an appreciative smile.
“Let the church say amen,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Amen,” I replied as I squeezed her arm before I walked off.
“Excuse me, Miss.” He greeted her. “Can I buy you another drink?”
“Yes, you can,” Kia answered flirtatiously.
I was out of earshot for the rest of their conversation. Grinning, I made my way to my mother.
“How are you, Zola?” she welcomed me warmly as I sat next to her.
I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m great, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m getting tired, but I’m having a wonderful time.” She grabbed my hand. “You need some lotion.”
I laughed as she dug in her handbag and handed me a tube of moisturizer.
“That girl with the voice…” My mom shook her head. “Her voice was like an angel. Who was that again?”
“That’s India… Trenton’s girlfriend.”
“Now she should be on the radio. She has the voice, the look, the stage presence. You know who her voice reminds me of?”