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"I'm sure he just didn't expect you to be sending someone who spoke the language," I say.
My father sips his scotch. "Watch yourself over there," he says, looking at me meaningfully. Then, his expression changes as someone else walks up to us. "Congressman Adams. Where is your lovely wife?"
I stand beside my father, smiling as he makes introductions and parades me around like the proud father he is. But I'm looking around, searching the faces in the crowd for Gaige. The annual Fourth of July party is a tradition of my father's. He hosts it every year. It's an all-American Texas barbecue on steroids, over-the-top and ridiculous, complete with Texas state representatives and the mayor in attendance, and a fireworks display at the end that rivals the town's own display. It's a huge business party hosted by Marlowe Oil. And my father will spend the evening with my mother at his side, greasing palms and courting new contacts.
One of the catering staff walks by with a tray of glasses, champagne flutes with raspberries and blueberries in the bottom that ensure even the drinks are part of the patriotic theme. I snag a glass, reveling in the moment of silence with no one bothering me. That sense of peace lasts less than five minutes until Chelsea approaches me. "You've been busy," she says, her expression pinched.
"I hope that's a compliment," I say. I know it's exactly the opposite, but I'm determined not to let Chelsea ruin my night. Nothing is going to ruin my night, not with Gaige's words running through my head, like some kind of dirty mantra: I'm going to expect you to be dripping.
The thing is, I am wet. Exactly like he wanted.
Chelsea sips from a cocktail. "I spoke to Mr. Ito," she says. "He wants to give you a personal tour of Tokyo. "
I nod. "I'm sure the company will show all of us around. "
"And here I thought you were all about Gaige," she says. "But you'll just bat those big eyes of yours and try to wrap everyone around your little finger, won't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. " I down the rest of my glass of champagne in one gulp, and grab another from a tray as it comes by. I don't care if Chelsea is my boss or not; I'm about to punch her right in that stupid, pinched little face.
Before I can say anything else, Gaige is by my side. "Evening, ladies. " Chelsea greets him with an air kiss and the sight makes me hate her even more.
When he steps back from her, his gaze drifts slowly up the length of my body, and I flush warm. "You both look lovely," he says, but his eyes are only on me.
Gaige has this way of making me feel naked when he looks at me, so self-conscious I'm nearly squirming. Of course, I am practically naked in this dress. It's short, like so fucking short it's practically indecent, especially for a work party. I almost changed at the last minute, but Gaige's words kept echoing in my head. The short and sexy dress was a concession to the fact that I didn't do what he expressly ordered – I just couldn't bring myself to leave my bra and panties at home.
Chelsea turns to Gaige. "Akira Ito certainly seems to think Delaney looks lovely tonight. "
That's it. I am going to punch her.
Gaige looks at me, his gaze intense. "Is that so?"
I smile, forcing a nonchalant tone. "He's the Japanese point of contact for your tour," I say. "He's the Vice President for Public Relations of the bike manufacturing company that's hosting you. He's offered to take us on a tour of Tokyo, personally. It's extremely kind of him. "
"Oh, don't be modest, Delaney," Chelsea says, putting her hand on Gaige's arm. Gaige flinches and steps away a few inches, but it doesn't seem to deter Chelsea. "Akira is quite young, especially for someone so successful. And I'm sure he means to take Delaney on quite the personal tour of Japan. "
I can feel my face redden. "That's not true," I snap.
Chelsea smiles. "Delaney, you're so modest about your accomplishments. She's so good at establishing personal relationships with clients. "
Does she know about me and Gaige?
Gaige gives me a look that makes me want to melt, and I know I have to get out of here. "Excuse me," I say, turning to leave.
"Delaney," Gaige says, but Chelsea's hand is already on his arm.
"Gaige, I need you to meet Mr. Patterson," she says. "Mr. Patterson, how are you?"