Escorting the Actress by Leigh James
Kyle
Elena had bought me a suit. I put it on, along with a lavender tie, feeling guilty that I'd kept it. I would send it back to her when we returned to LA, after I'd had it properly dry-cleaned.
I was starting to sound like an adult. It both scared and thrilled me.
Lowell stepped out of the bedroom a second later, her blond hair in waves over one shoulder. She was wearing an ice-blue dress that brought out her eyes and hugged every curve.
I sucked in a breath when I saw her. "You look gorgeous."
She blushed but smiled, clearly pleased. "And you look dashing. I've never seen you in a suit before." She came over and straightened my tie. "I like it. It's very Kyle 2.0."
I beamed and held out my arm. "Shall we?"
She giggled and took it, following me out to the elevator. "Where are we going?"
"To the most romantic restaurant in the city."
"Says who?" she asked.
"Says Boston Hub, and about fifteen other websites I checked." I grinned. "There's going to be lobster. And steak. And dancing."
"Dancing?" she asked, obviously horrified.
I grabbed her hand and twirled her in a circle in the elevator. "Trust me. You can handle it."
She tripped a little, and we both laughed.
When we got to the lobby floor, she looked at me. "You can't let me trip like that. It's embarrassing."
I put my arm around her and pulled her against me. "I've got you. Don't you worry."
Britta, the blond concierge, caught sight of us and waved. "I have a message for you guys!"
I raised my hand to her as I hustled Lo out the door. "When we get back!"
I didn't want anything to interfere with my night with Lowell. I didn't want a single interruption.
Evan drove us to the Financial District. We watched through the windows as the city lit up around us, the darkening sky a purplish-blue.
Lowell turned to me. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
I stared at her gorgeous face. "You have no idea."
Her eyes widened for a second, then she shook her head and playfully punched my shoulder. "Once a player, always a player."
"What are you going to do when you finally figure out I'm not playing?"
She studied my face for a minute. I thought I saw a mixture of longing and hope on hers, but I could have been hoping for it, not seeing it.
"I don't know," she said finally.
I put my hand over hers. "You might want to figure it out."
The restaurant was locatedon the top floor of the highest building in Boston. We could see the whole city spread out below us. Lowell looked out the windows in delight, clutching my hand as she had at Disneyland, the same wonder on her face.
"This is so pretty," she gushed, taking in the view, then the restaurant itself.
The restaurant was set up with tables circling a dance floor. Couples glided over it as a big band played.
"It's fun, isn't it?"
We drank champagne, danced, and shared a lobster dinner. Lowell didn't trip once, so around midnight, we agreed to one last dance. Lowell had announced she was about to turn into a pumpkin if she didn't get to bed soon.
We swayed to the music, our bodies melded together on the dance floor.We'd been like this all day—pressed up against every inch of each other—and I wasn't sure how we would ever get back to normal. Whatever that was.
I tilted her chin up and leaned down to kiss her.
"Is there a photographer near us or something?" she asked, looking at me warily.
"Yes," I whispered. "Right behind you."
I leaned down and claimed her mouth, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her against me. My body told me how much I wanted her. Still, I didn't want to scare her away, and I wanted to do the right thing. So I pulled back.
"Why'd you do that?" she asked breathlessly.
"Because I thought I saw a photographer," I lied.
She shook her head. "No. Why'd you stop?" She leaned up and kissed me, making my heart race and my temples throb.
We stopped for a second, halted in the middle of the dance floor.
"You don't want me to stop?" I asked.
She shook her head, her eyes wide and urgent. "No. I don't."
We practically ran back to the hotel.
