Poising myself, I turned to greet him and immediately stopped cold. "Oh my," I blurted.
Blake was tall and built like an athlete, just like he said, but what he failed to mention were his chiseled features. He was so painfully handsome; he could have been on the cover of this month's Vogue. His head of full, dark hair was slicked back in a classical 1920s fashion. His perfectly sculpted face was complete with a sharp jawline, complete with the gorgeous smile he was currently flashing me. Smooth, Chrissy. Get it together!
It was hard, though. His green eyes were almost hypnotic, in that I was only freed once he blinked. I must have just been gaping at him like an idiot because I was awarded a confident, arrogant smirk as he slid into the seat next to me. If I was nervous before, it was nothing compared to what this Godlike man was subjecting me to. I'd never even stood this close to someone so gorgeous before. The fact that this man was the brilliant, funny man I'd been talking to for the past ten years should have reassured me, but it made me even more nervous. It made me unsure of myself, rather than him, and this was territory I was not used to.
When he sat down next to me, I got a whiff of his cologne. It was this smoky, dense, robust scent that was almost as captivating as him. It took all my willpower to not close my eyes, lean in and get a deeper whiff. Stop being weird, Chrissy. You'll scare him away before you even say hello.
"That picture that you sent me years ago doesn't do you any justice. You're exquisite." He brought my hand to his face as his said it, brushing my knuckles with his lips. I tightened my fist to hide my chipped nails, suddenly wishing I had made that trip to the salon with Vanessa.
"Thank you," I whispered, blushing. I started to look away, but then his face caught my eye, for a whole different reason. I realized that he looked familiar. "I know that this sounds crazy, but have we met before?"
"No. What do you mean?"
"You look so familiar. I can't put my finger on where I have seen you before."
"Have you?" He seemed amused. It was like he was holding something back from me.
"Yes, I have," I straightened up in my seat, as if that would give me the answers--I wasn't holding back from staring at that handsome face dead-on now. I was sure I'd seen him before now, but I was still having a difficult time placing where I knew him from.
The bartender interrupted my thoughts by taking Blake's drink order and serving me my martini, and within moments we fell into our comfortable selves. All thoughts of his familiarity vanished as he had something that made me laugh. It all felt incredibly natural.
I told him about the pitfalls of work and he just shook his head 'no'. He informed me that we weren't going to talk about work and reminded me that we were here to have a good time. After he said that, it was like this huge burden was lifted off of my shoulders. I felt at ease and the outlook of the night brightened a significant amount for me.
An hour and another drink later, he asked if I was ready to go. I nodded and he escorted me out.
"Where's your car?" I asked while looking up and down the empty street.
He raised his hand and within seconds, a black car pulled up. Swiftly, a driver in a custom-tailored suit got out, walked around, and opened the back passenger door. He then turned to address us.
"Mr. Slate," he said as he tilted his head towards Blake. "Miss Foxworth." Then he tilted his head towards me.
"Thank you, Jonathan. Please drive us to the first destination of the night," Blake responded, ordering the driver as if he'd known him for years and hadn't just rented the limo for the night. Maybe he has known him for years. Blake held my hand my hand up to give me stability as I climbed into the backseat.
Blake stood outside for a few moments longer, giving the driver further instructions, as I glanced around the interior in stunned silence. It was all creamy leathers and sleek, black paneling. Renting a ride like this for a night would cost more than my rent for a month, and from the way they were interacting, it sounded like it wasn't just for one night. It sounded like Jonathan was Blake's regular driver.
After this realization dawned on me, Blake slid into the seat beside me and the driver closed the door behind him.
"What exactly is it you do again?" I asked as the driver began to head towards our next destination.
"Tsk tsk. I thought we agreed not to talk about work tonight."
"But you're here acting like you're James Bond," I responded, flinging my hands up in the air in exasperation.
"Who is to say that I'm not?" he joked while shooting me a wicked grin. "I could very well be Mr. Bond."