Promise Me

“Likewise,” Nigel replies.

The second Vaughn and I are outside in the warm summer air, I say, “He really likes you.”

“You think?”

“Yep.”

“I tried to play it cool.”

“You were the coolest of cool.”

“There’s a cool bar around the corner.” Vaughn’s smile is anything but cool. It’s hot, and it’s getting me hot, too. “Are you up for something to eat?”

“Sounds good,” I say.

He opens the door to Lost Property Bar, allowing me entry first. With his hand on the small of my back, he leads us to a round open table in the back. He pulls out my chair before sitting across from me in the low-lit, sophisticated bar. I hang my purse over the chair back and relax into my seat. I’ve got the best view in the place right in front of me. Dressed in a fitted mesh-trim T-shirt the same shade as his eyes, his light brown hair effortlessly sexy, and a playful bend to his lips, Vaughn is ridiculously appealing.

“Whatever you do,” h

e says, putting our shoe bags down before leaning his elbows on the table, “don’t tell Dylan we came here instead of The Cabana.”

I laugh. “I can hear him now. ‘You went to that fucking dive instead of my place? What the hell is wrong with you?’”

Vaughn cracks up. “You sounded just like him.”

“I’m good with voices. Want to hear my James Corden?”

“He’s only my favorite late night talk show host, so yes.”

“He’s my favorite, too!” Okay, so now I really want to impress him. I clear my throat. “Hey, man, you left your guitar at my house last night, so I’ve got it here, but I’m going to be late for work now.”

“I don’t know why listening to you imitate a male late night host is sexy”—Vaughn takes my face in his hands—“but I need to make out with this exceptionally talented mouth now.” The split second his lips meet mine I open for him. Every kiss is better than the last. Every taste makes me forget everything but us. Our tongues slide against each other, our lips meld. I’m helpless to stop the tiny noise of approval that sounds from the back of my throat. Vaughn kisses me harder in answer.

After a minute—or maybe ten, I’ve lost track of time—someone’s chair scrapes against the floor, reminding us we’re necking in a bar. We pull back at the same time. Vaughn’s eyes stay glued to mine as he gets comfortable in his seat again. The intensity that arches between us feels magnetic, and I’m ready to dive into another kiss. Screw privacy.

“Let’s order before I drag you out of here.” He picks up the small menu left on the table just as the waitress arrives. Vaughn orders me a lemon drop martini when I tell him I want something fruity and not too strong, and an iced tea for himself.

“You’re not having a drink?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m good without it.”

“Iced tea for me, too, then,” I tell the waitress before Vaughn and I order a few different appetizers to share.

“Laney was incredible,” I say. “I’m glad I came tonight.”

He reaches across the table for my hand, runs his thumb across my knuckles in a gesture I’m getting way too accustomed to. This time it’s the same hand JT shook. My hand is currently the lottery winner of body parts. “Thanks for risking being seen with me.”

“You can thank me later.”

“Oh, I plan to. Numerous times.”

I press my thighs together, his promise a direct link to there. “It was fun getting a glimpse of you in action. I really hope you get the hosting job.”

“You’ve been privy to more than a brief look at my moves, baby,” he says in a low, playful voice.

My body perks up further, a flame inside me stoked by his flirting. “Shut up. You know what I mean. You’re a natural onstage.”

“Thanks.” Sliding his hand back and resting his forearms on the table, he twists the bracelet I gave him around his wrist. Without thought, I reach for my necklace and rub my fingers over the pendant. “You know, you’re a natural, too.”