“Qui êtes-vous ici pour voir,Mademoiselle?”
My French being a little terrible, I caught about half of what he said. “Monsieur,Gray?”
“Yes, of course,” the man said in perfect English, not even anaccent.
He went behind a tall desk and picked up the phone. Some words were exchanged in French, and then he hung up. “Mr. Gray will be downmomentarily.”
I nodded and stepped away from the counter. Part of me was sad I wouldn’t get to see his apartment. Another part of me was happy the temptation wouldn’t bepresent.
I’d avoided thinking about that kiss all day. But now that I was about to see him again, there was no stopping the way it played in my mind like a movie reel set to loop. He’d taken the liberty, and damn it, I wanted him to do it again. It was the only reason I’d asked him out after my speech about dating theboss.
Chemistry like that couldn’t be faked, and I’d spent a lot of years with duds—long enough to know how badly a relationship can go without it. I wished like hell he wasn’t my boss though. It would make wanting to use him for sex so much less abashing. Or at the very least, it would make me feel less guilty aboutit.
Instead of waiting to do it in the bar, I stripped off my flats, picked them up, and folded them into my clutch. I glanced up to catch the doorman staring, a bemused expression on hisface.
I shrugged and slid on the heels without a single wobble. “They hurt to walk on thecobblestones.”
He inclined his head and focused on the elevator. It dinged, the gleaming doors slid open with a swish, and out stepped Gray like he was shooting a cologne ad or something. I almost wanted to sigh infrustration.
He wore black dress pants, a white shirt folded to the elbow, a navy tie, and a vest that cut a tightfigure.
I looked him over and felt entirely underdressed in my skinny jeans, pink velvet cami, and heels. “It’s ok that you decided not to dress up,” Ioffered.
He froze in the middle of adjusting a sleeve at his elbow, a look of alarm crossing his features for a split second before clearing. “Very funny, MissVale.”
“I suppose you can call me Izzy. And by the way, Dorian, don’t think for one minute that we’re not going to be talking about yourname.”
He held out his elbow, and I allowed him to help me into the taxi idling at the curb. Once I was settled, he climbed in on the opposite side, and I gave him brownie points for not mentioning the smell, the taxi in general, or the fact that he probably could have ordered a limo or something to take usout.
“You look beautiful tonight, Izzy,” he said from his very far away side of the car. I could barely catch the edge of something that smelled warm and spicy emanating from him. Like cinnamon or cloves. I wanted to move closer, but he already had too much power in this relationship—between me telling him I wouldn’t date him, then letting him kiss me, and me asking him out. I didn’t need to be throwing myself on him in the back of a taxi on top ofit.
I forced myself to stare out the window at the passing pedestrians as we made our way through narrow streets before I responded. “Thank you. So doyou.”
I stole a glance his way in time to see the corner of his mouth lift the tiniest bit. An unguarded gesture that measured high on the reaction meter for him—the man of manymasks.
The taxi stopped outside my favorite bar, and I handed the driver cash before Gray could even retrieve his wallet. He didn’t put up a fuss though and followed me onto thesidewalk.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been taken out by a woman before.” He mused and slipped his hands into hispockets.
“No?” I gestured to the thin brick building behind us, and he followed me inside. A haze of smoke filled the dark room, and I claimed my favorite table in the very back of the long narrow bar. It was perfect for people watching, and my friend who tended the bar usually kept it empty with a reserved sign when she knew I was coming. I grabbed the plastic card, turned it to the side, and slid into the curve of the oval-shaped booth. Dorian followed, keeping a respectable distance betweenus.
A soft jazz tune played quiet and slow from outdated speakers in each corner of the bar. And before I could even warm up my first piece of conversation, the other regular bartender brought two of myusual.
Gray took the tall pint of beer without aword.
“You’re pretty accommodating for a millionaire,” I said as he took asip.
He swallowed and turned to face me. “I promise you, I’m not always acquiescing. But when I want something, I canbe.”
Heat trickled up my neck and into my ears, but I didn’t flinch, maintaining eye contact as I sipped my own beer. Once I’d swallowed, I swiveled to face him as well. “Noted.”
“So this is a local haunt ofyours?”
“Didn’t you find that out while you were stalkingme?”
He shook his head and picked up the sign. “No, but they seem to know you and your usualroutines.”
“My friend works here, so I do spend a lot of time here. Once rehearsals start back up I don’t think I’ll be aroundmuch.”
