I smile at him. "A friend said that, did she? Sounds like a smart woman."
"She has her moments," Carter says. He leans against the bar on his elbows, turning toward the crowd. Standing elbow to elbow with me. "I've been meaning to ask your thoughts about the Globe and some of the changes I'm considering."
My palms immediately feel sweaty around the glass of champagne. "Oh?"
I don't want to be the reason anyone gets fired, and yet the chance to have an impact-to actually help change the face of the Globe -is more than any ambitious junior reporter can turn down.
And I hate it, but there is dead weight around. I've been there long enough to see it now. I open my mouth to admit that.
"But not right now," Carter says. "It wouldn't be fair of me to pry business secrets out of you when you're three glasses deep."
"Two," I say.
"Sure, kid."
I laugh this time, shifting so our elbows touch. "So, which of the beautiful women here did you bring as a date?"
"What makes you think I brought a date?"
"Come on, Carter," I say. "Like you're attending an event like this on your own."
He snorts. "You're right. I usually need a minder. A carer, perhaps. That's what happens when you reach my esteemed age."
"You're six years older than me."
"Don't worry," he says. "You'll reach my level of wisdom eventually."
"Doesn't wisdom come with humility?"
"That's a common myth," he says. "Happy to bust it for you."
My smile is on the verge of breaking into laughter, giddiness rising in my chest like the champagne bubbles in my glass. "You're the silliest man I've ever met."
"A superlative, and so early in our friendship?"
"I'm sorry," I say, nudging his elbow again. "It's all downhill from here."
"It's okay. We had a good run," he says. And then, spoken beneath his breath, "Peanut guy."
"So, no date?"
He's quiet for a beat, but his voice is as smooth as always when he speaks again. "I didn't say I came without a date. But she left a little while ago."
There's a brief pang of something in my chest. Disappointment, perhaps, even if it makes little sense. It's not like I'm his only confidant or friend, and I'm definitely not his date.
"You're good at cutting your dates short," I say instead, my voice playful. "You did it the night we met too, remember?"
This time, his smile warms his eyes to amber. "Only when you show up."
I laugh at the absurdity. "Right. You're too charming, you know. You're not allowed to exercise that on friends, not to mention employees."
"Sorry. I don't know how to turn it off."
"Don't," I say, bumping his elbow again. He's big and solid by my side, taller than most and more handsome than all. "It's good practice for me, you know. I don't lock up around you the way I do when I go on dates. If only I can get that way all the time."
Carter looks at me for a long moment. "Isn't your date with the piano teacher tomorrow? You postponed."
"Yes," I say, forcing down the nerves in my stomach. They're instinctual at this point, coming whenever I hear the word date . I wish they'd call it something else.
Something with less expectations.
"While I'm more than happy to be your guinea pig," he says, "you really don't get nervous around me?"
"No," I say with a grin. The idea of him, perpetually sarcastic and smiling, handsome and rich, ever dating me is ridiculous. He's so firmly outside of the box of romantic possibility.
He grins and flashes his dimple, proving my point. "I don't know if I should be flattered or hurt by that."
"Relieved, probably," I say. "Couldn't help you turn the Globe around if I was tongue-tied around you, now could I?"
"Valid point," he says. "You're all business, spitfire. I admire that about you."
I drain the last of my champagne. His eyes widen, and then he gives a quiet laugh. It's dark and sensual, just like his voice, and sends shivers down my spine.
"Liquid courage," I say. "Think I can introduce myself to Dean Allen?"
Carter takes my glass, our fingers brushing against one another, and sets it down on the counter. "Of course you can, although I can make the introductions, if you'd like."
"You know him?"
"Not well," he admits, "but we sat next to one another at an industry event last year. I was scoping the Globe and attended them all."
"A year of just speaking to people like this?! How do I live your life?"
He chuckles again and nods toward the crowd. "Come on. Dean Allen awaits. Do you have your notebook?"
"Very funny," I say. "I'm not going to write down his answers."
Carter bends to whisper in my ear. "But admit it. You want to."
I grin, feeling fierce and free and confident, a woman in charge of her destiny. "Yes."
It's late when I finally get my coat from the check. I don't know how late, exactly, because I haven't looked at my phone in hours. But judging by the rapidly thinning crowd, I'm amongst the stragglers.
Worth it.
Carter's voice has the same dry humor as before. "Had to pry you two away from one another," he says.
"Thank you," I tell him earnestly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for making the introductions. I think that was the best conversation of my life."