Page 70 of Sex Positive
“Since we’re back to beingfriends…” He shoots her a sidelong glance, suddenly appearing much more alive. “Will you show me your ugly sweater?”
Ten minutes later, after she shows him and he laughs so hard his headache returns and she informs him he can’t take more ibuprofen for another three hours, she excitedly spills the details of the newly concocted Great Sexpectations Expo while he chugs more coffee and water.
“I mean, ideally we’d get a musical guest or a comedian to perform—that’ll bring in a larger crowd and generate more publicity. But the only person I know who might be able to put me in touch with someone like that is Theo.” She breaks off a chunk of the breakfast bar she pulled from the cupboard, handing the other half to Wes. “Do you think it would be too much to ask him for another favor?”
Wes chews thoughtfully. “I have a better idea.” He swallows. “Why don’t you come to my mother’s holiday party next week?”
She frowns. “How will that help?”
“Senator Rebecca Belvedere-Quinn’s holiday party is always a big spectacle.” He takes a sip of coffee. “My dad uses it to network and schmooze. People from the press come, and other members of Congress, and several celebrities who’ve endorsed my mother over the years.”
Charlie bites her lip. “I don’t have experience networking.”
He grins, all confidence and self-assured charm. “Leave that to me. I’ll help you. I guarantee the majority of people in that room would love to attach their name to a cause like the clinic.”
Her stomach bubbles with nerves at the idea of being surrounded by so many important people.
Wes leans forward. “Rogers. The expo is an incredible idea. If anyone can plan it, it’s you. Let me help in the one way I can.”
Her heart flips. It’s due to pure excitement about planning, she tells herself, not his enthusiastic praise.
“All right.”
He grins. “Is that ayes?”
“Yes. I’ll go.But”—she points a finger at him—“I reserve the right to leave at any time.”
He holds out his hand, and she takes it. “Deal.”
When she tries drawing back, he holds firm, his eyes insistent, green sparking against brown.
“I promise I won’t leave you alone this time.”
The sincerity in his words quiets her mind even as she tries to suppress her flickering hope.
Nineteen
Nursing a wineglassfor something to do with her hands, Charlie silently counts to one hundred, looking anywhere but across the lavishly decorated room to where Wes stands with a group of his mother’s colleagues. But like an addict, she’s unable to stay away from the most potent drug.
Fir trees draped in white lights, silver baubles, and tinsel line the perimeter of the room. Glittering snowflakes dangle from the ceiling and hang on the walls, and tables covered in hors d’oeuvres are scattered throughout the room. Guests mingle, laughing, enjoying the free alcohol, while instrumental holiday music plays softly from hidden speakers.
“I’ll just be a moment,” Wes murmured a few minutes earlier, placing a hand on her lower back. “Will you be okay?”
His need for reassurance grounded her in the room full of important people, glamorous in their holiday best. She nodded, and her eyes followed him as he crossed the room, drinking in their fill of the sharp black dinner jacket stretched over his broad shoulders, the crisp white button-down tucked into perfectly tailored black slacks at his narrow waist. The black tie she wants to wrap around her hand and yank, pulling his mouth to hers.
He’s distractingly debonair, nearly taking her breath away.
When he catches her eye, he flashes her a secret smile that feels like it’s just for them.
Foolish, Charlie.
It feels too familiar. Too dangerous.
Besides, she’s here tonetworkfor the expo.
She sips her champagne, the bubbles crisp and refreshing on her tongue, her body overheated from a combination of Wes’s attention, nerves, and the lights in the room.
“It’s pretentious, right?”
