by Demi Damson
“Great, then it’s a date!”
“You said it wasn’t a date.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Men!” She stretched, truly relieved not to have to sit through another long dinner with George Lovett. “Does that mean I can stay in my jeans?” His face fell and she knew that was the wrong thing to say.
“You really can’t go to Tchaikovsky’s in jeans. I’ll be wearing a suit.”
“Right,” she said, trying not to sigh. She thought maybe a night off might include the chance to be a bit more casual—she was happy to go out but was thinking maybe Chipotles or grabbing a pizza somewhere. That was clearly not an option when it came to Jordan. Reason number 117 why a relationship with him would never work out, not that she was counting.
Hopefully it’d just be a nice restaurant and not too upmarket. Maybe she’d get lucky and he just liked dressing up to go to the local burger joint.
Chapter Twenty
Dinner For Two (Wine For Two Hundred)
Jordan smiled. As always, everything here was perfect. It should be, this was the most exclusive restaurant in Haven. Classical music filtered through the candle-lit dining room as the uniformed wait staff moved silently across the deep plush carpets, making sure every guest’s evening was perfect.
Jordan raised his champagne glass to toast Charlotte from across the heavy oak table. “To Tchaikovsky’s,” he said with a smile. This was probably the best restaurant in the state and certainly the most expensive. She raised her glass and clinked his carefully, as if she were worried she might chip the crystal.
She looked fabulous, wearing a cream lace dress with a long row of tiny buttons up her back to the nape of her neck, but clearly, she felt intimidated. As it was, she got flustered at the server pulling out her chair and then her eyes just about bugged out of her head when she looked at the menu. He wished the old-fashioned system of handing a woman a menu without pricing was still in vogue. He’d wished that before with Lauren, funnily enough, but for the opposite reason—she would scan the prices to find the most expensive item and order it. He didn’t mind paying for the meal so much as the underlying mercenary attitude it belied.
Charlotte did the opposite, choosing onion soup followed by asparagus hollandaise, very blatantly the two cheapest items on the menu. And he knew she wasn’t vegetarian; he’d seen her tucking into her Maria’s albondigas last night without any compunction. She was clearly a woman who enjoyed her food, thank goodness. He leaned forward and tapped her menu, trying to take it away. “Are you sure you won’t share the Chateaubriand with me? It’s my favorite dish here.”
She kept ahold of the menu, looking through the items until she found it. She went pale. “I don’t think so,” she said, her eyes wide.
“That’s the price for two,” he said, “and I can’t have it unless you do. And a lady never looks at the price.”
She winced at that. He made up his mind. “We’ll have that. How do you like your steak?”
She gave him an exasperated look and then gave in. “Medium-rare, please.”
“Perfect, me too.” He signaled for the waiter without arguing with her about the appetizer. He didn’t want her to feel like she had no choice. But no way was he taking Charlotte to the best restaurant in town for her to nibble on asparagus.
Clearly, she didn’t have any top-end clients or else she’d be wined and dined in restaurants like this all the time. He felt oddly relieved to know that she didn’t.
As always, she looked spectacular. She didn’t look out of place, she just needed more confidence. She’d get used to it.
Not that it was anything to do with him. He was just enjoying taking her out to a nice meal, that’s all. Oh, and giving her an engagement gift.
“I brought you a present,” he said. “Since you aren’t getting a new dress for the party.”
“I don’t need a new dress.”
He rolled his eyes and held out a jewelry box. “You can wear this, though.”
She looked nervous as she opened up the box. As she pulled out the necklace she gasped. It was a vintage diamond choker with a Pyrus Chandelier—beautiful, round, brilliant cut stones set in teardrops of rose gold.
He hadn’t bought it for her. That would be wildly inappropriate. He truly wasn’t interested in buying her attention—at least, not any more than he was already committed to. The necklace had originally been for Lauren, an attempt to keep her happy. That was shortly before she dumped him and he never gave it to her. It had been gathering dust ever since, locked up in his Haven safe. So, there was no harm in giving it to Charlotte. It didn’t mean anything. He just thought it would look beautiful around her neck.
Charlotte carefully put the necklace back into the velvet-lined box and handed it back to him. “I can’t wear that.”
“Why not! Don’t you like it?”
“It’s amazing. But I make it a practice not to wear anything that is worth more than everything I own put together.”
He furrowed his brow, not understanding her problem. “But I gave it to you.”
She rubbed her wrist and then shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, but I couldn’t possibly.”
“I’m not offended. I bought it for someone else a long time ago and it’s just been sitting in the box. The cost isn’t the point. I just thought you’d like it.” He scowled, trying not to imagine the diamonds glittering against her bare neck, dangling low into her cleavage. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“No, I figured.” She placed the box in front of him.
Did she look disappointed? No, that was much too emotional for Miss On-The-Job. She always sounded super calm and collected. He longed to see what she’d be like if she lost control. He wondered how her face might blush if she got seriously angry. Then he imagined her head thrown back, crying out his name in ecstasy. Christ. Where did that come from?
He shoved the box into his pocket. “Red wine or white?” And then he felt bad for sounding gruff. It was just that he was amazingly bad at making sense of Charlotte. He thought she’d love the necklace but she went all cold, as if he’d done something wrong.
He was grateful when she changed the subject. “Do you always work weekends?”
“Usually. The problem is, everything kicks off on Monday mornings. Even when I’m in the office, there’s always a dozen things that need my attention and I’ll be on the phone most of the morning. If I don’t read the departmental reports now, I’ll never see them, which means those people who do the most planning and are organized enough to report to me in a timely fashion get ignored until it turns into a crisis, at which point they are on the phone needing an answer immediately. It’s a vicious circle and it’s directly caused by bad management.”
She smiled at him. “I thought you’d be all buy-buy-buy and focused on how to make more money.” She said the words with vehemence, as if she didn’t approve of making money. But that was just silly.
“Well, you have to keep an eye on the cash flow at all times, otherwise you don’t have a company to manage. It’s a lot of work though.” Truth was, he was tired. The past year had been constantly on the go and he longed for a break.
His exhaustion must have shown on his face. “You need help,” she said. “I would if I could.” She sat up straight. “I could do filing. There’s all those big wooden filing cabinets in the office.”
“Those are my fathers. My files are all electronic. I’ve been trying to get the office to go paperless, but it isn’t easy.”
“Would that save a lot of money?”
“Not really. Paper is cheap and we already have the printers. No, it’s just the waste of it all. I hate seeing people print out reams of reports, manuals, even web pages—and then just throw it away after a day or two. And the other problem is, with an electronic archiving system, things get misfiled even more than they do in a drawer system. Instead of a couple of filing clerks, everyone keeps their own documentation which means everyone develo
ps their own system. And it’s a lot easier to make sense of how a department is going wrong if there’s a paper trail.” He laughed, embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s one of my pet obsessions.”
“Not at all. I totally get what you mean about a paper trail.” She sipped her wine, watching him under her lashes.
As the first plates of food arrived, he was glad to see she’d relaxed. Still, he thought, giving her a long look. It did seem odd that she wasn’t used to high-end restaurants. Maybe she wasn’t as popular an escort as Buddy had made out.
His eyes snagged on the odd little tattoo on her wrist. “Enough about me,” he said. “Tell me about Rufus.”
Chapter Twenty–One
A Taste Of Honey
Charlotte was not crazy about any of the lying that had brought her to this point, but the story of her imaginary dog was without question the stupidest lie she had ever told. She looked at her wrist, not feeling the least bit ruthless. “Rufus was a great dog. A really great dog. What a great dog.” She needed to stop repeating herself, she was starting to sound like an idiot. “Did you ever have a dog?”
“No. No pets. Well, except for a rock.”
“You had a pet rock?”
He grinned. “Yeah, it had eyes and everything. I called it Maurice. But one day the maid was cleaning my room and threw it out, said she just thought it was from the garden. It had eyes.” He shook his head. “George said if I was that bothered, I should clean my own room. She couldn’t be expected to know a rock was important to me.”
“That’s such a sad story.”
He shrugged. “It was just a rock. But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you. You keep deflecting.”
She just knew he was going to start asking about the damn dog again. And why shouldn’t he wonder: what kind of grown woman gets a dog’s initial tattooed on her wrist?
Luckily the waiter arrived and interrupted further questioning. He pushed a serving cart holding the biggest hunk of steak she had ever seen in her life. “Is that all for me?”
The waiter looked down his nose at her but Jordan only laughed. “I think I get some too, Charlotte.”
“Quite,” said the waiter and pulled out a knife. He started carving slices from the meat.
Charlotte felt her mouth-watering. “That looks amazing.”
“It is.” Jordan tilted his head. “You’ve really never had chateaubriand before?”
She felt embarrassed. “Not really my thing,” she mumbled. And then thankfully their plates were full and she could focus on her food. They ate in silence, silverware clinking against the china.
What was this necklace thing, anyway? It must have been worth a fortune. She’d never touched anything so obviously expensive before in her life. The thing weighed a ton and sparkled like nothing she’d ever seen before. She should have been ruthless and just taken it, really. But no. She wasn’t going to be like that. The thought made her feel dirty. Besides, where on earth would she wear such a thing? She’d be frightened to leave it in her apartment when she went to the coffee shop.
Was it a come on? Did he think he could buy her? He might think all women were for sale. He might believe he could just give her some glittery thing and like a magpie she would snatch it and do whatever he said. She glanced up to find him watching her. As always, she felt pierced by his gaze, as if he were looking straight through her.
“Do you like the steak?”
Part of her wanted to lie and say it was just ok. Tell him she wasn’t impressed by this fancy restaurant with their fancy food. But the fact was, she’d never eaten anything so succulent before. The beef almost melted in her mouth and even the side dishes caused minor taste explosions in her mouth. She told the truth. “It’s delicious,” she said. “I think it might be the most delicious meal of my life.” She took another bite.
He leaned forward. “You are beautiful when you are hungry.”
She felt her cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry, I’m what?”
“I love the way you color up at the slightest of compliments. It makes me want to give you more. I guess I thought you’d be used to flattery.”
“Not really,” she mumbled, feeling her face turn even redder.
“Like how your eyes glitter with excitement when you are talking about something you love. And how your lips curve into a gentle smile sometimes when you think no one is watching. And the way you pull your hair up, revealing your soft neck to me until I can’t think of anything else but how badly I want to nibble on it.”
Her mouth fell open. She stared at him wide-eyed over this onslaught of compliments. Thankfully, the waiter appeared behind her and topped up her wine glass, cutting him off. She finished her food, grateful for the diversion. But when she dared look up again, Jordan was still leaning forward, staring at her intently. There was no denying the passion blazing in his eyes.
“I want to kiss you, Charlotte.” He took a deep breath. “This afternoon, in the woods, I imagined that you might want me to kiss you, too. If I misread the situation, I promise I will never bring it up again. If you say no.” He swallowed, almost as if he was nervous. “But if you wouldn’t mind trying it, being kissed, then I’d love the opportunity.”
Her insides had turned to Jello. It was the oddest proposal she’d ever had and yet he had set her heart to racing. Here was this guy, this jerk who always got his own way, and he was asking her permission. Somehow that got to her more than anything else. The fact that he was totally hot didn’t hurt. And that she had, in fact, desperately wanted him to kiss her this afternoon. Her stomach was full of butterflies. Her mouth was open but she couldn’t get the words out. Finally, she just nodded.
He smiled but his eyes were still intense. “Was that a yes, you wouldn’t mind being kissed? By me specifically, I mean.”
The joke helped but she still couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, frozen in the headlights. “Yes,” she whispered.
“The check please,” he called, suddenly all business. “Then let’s get out of here,” he said in a low voice, and she suddenly realized just how close the tables were, with other diners all around. And they’d clearly been noticed: the woman at the next table gave her a thumbs-up.
Jordan paid and draped her coat around her and rushed her out the door in about 90 seconds flat, so obviously impatient she couldn’t help but laugh.
He grinned in response and took her hand. “I don’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.” They walked to the sports car which he unlocked with a beep. Then he backed her against the passenger door instead of opening it.
Her heart sped up. He looked down at her, his eyes smoldering. She held his gaze as the world fell away. There was nothing in this world, in this entire universe, other than him and her and the possibility of being kissed. Her lips parted. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he brought his mouth down onto hers. He nibbled at her bottom lip and then kissed her properly, his tongue claiming her mouth for his own. She pressed her body against his. She felt his hardness pressing against her; there was no doubt he wanted her. And she wanted him, not even embarrassed they were in a parking lot, making out like they were teenagers. His lips and tongue attacked her, dominant and hungry.
Then he broke off the kiss. Breathless and dizzy, she clung to his shoulders. The cold air was a shock on her swollen lips. He gently kissed her cheek down to her neck and then up to her earlobe. A moan escaped her and she pressed herself against him again.
“I want to take you home,” he whispered into her hair. She hated to let go of him, didn’t want to feel the cold night air on her oversensitive skin. He licked her earlobe, making her groan again. His soft kisses went all the way through her. She was soaking wet and he’d barely even touched her. “I want you,” she said.
“Get in the car, darling,” he drawled, reaching behind her to open the door. His hand trailed along her side and she leaned forward to let him get to the handle, pressing her hips against his. Now it was his turn to groan and a moment later
they were kissing again. “Christ, Charlotte.” His voice was rough with desire. He brought his mouth down on hers again and then pulled away, clearly reluctant to let go. This time he got the door open.
She got in before she could launch herself at him again. His tongue had left her dizzier than the wine and she wanted nothing more than for him to keep kissing her, to keep touching her. She gazed at him full of longing, lips parted in anticipation. It was going to be a long drive home.
“Don’t look at me like that. This car is too small to even think about it.” With that, he revved the engine and pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal.
She grinned as he sped back to the mansion. She put her hand over his as he shifted gears, enjoying the feel of his tensing muscles. It was impossible not to imagine those same hands all over her body. Should she spend the night with him? Probably not. But she was going to anyway. Taking the man you wanted was ruthless too, wasn’t it?
As they pulled up into the gravel drive, he squeezed her hand and then let go. “I had a lovely evening,” he said.
She blinked. That didn’t sound right. Had he changed his mind?
“I just want you to know that. Regardless of anything else.” He opened his mouth as if to say something more and then closed it again.
“Me, too,” she said, needing to fill the silence. Why was he suddenly shy? She almost giggled, except she was petrified she was going to somehow ruin everything.
“It’s just that I need to know...” his words trailed off.
His eyes were smoldering. She could still feel her sensitive skin where he had kissed her. She felt sure he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Whatever was making him nervous, she wanted it to go away.
There was only one reassurance she could think of. “All you need to know is that I want you to join me in the bed tonight,” she said, her voice hoarse with desire. She got out of the car and walked into the house. He would either follow her or not.