“My turn again? I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not writing this article about myself, anyway, and so far you’ve only told me things I could’ve found online.”
As if he hadn’t heard the second half of my statement, he half-smiled. “Youdoknow where you’d go,” he said. “Where?”
“I don’t have time to think about that.” I shifted in the leather booth. “Bill doesn’t like big vacations.”
“That’s a shame. He’s missing out on surfing perfect breaks in Bali, gorging on oysters in Montauk, late-night, winter-time hot-tubbing with a view of the Swiss Alps . . .” He sighed happily. “Nothing to dislike aboutmyvacations.”
Wet. Shirtless. Surfboard. Aphrodisiacs. Snowy mountains through the steam . . .
What girl could resist any of that with a god like David? But that was clearly a fantasy. No way he’d done all that. What about work? Obligations? Money?
Were there places I wanted to see? Of course. Bill and I really hadn’t taken an international trip in years. There was no use in daydreaming about it now, though.
“Whatever place you’re hiding in your head, you’ll get there,” David said. “You seem like a girl who knows what she wants.”
“I’m hardly a girl,” I bristled.
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Well, Mr. Dylan.” I moved my elbows to the table. “I reckon that’s not a very polite question.”
“I see. Is politeness something you look for in a gentleman?”
I twisted my lips. “Is that not adefining characteristicof the gentleman?”
“Touché. Is politeness something you look for in aman?”
My smile wavered. He was a man if I ever saw one. Unruffled by anything, chivalrous, inquisitive. He’d barely taken his eyes off me the entire meal, not even when the red-lipped hostess had stopped by to check on us.
“Come on. I’m here to find out whatyou’relooking for in awoman,” I reminded him, folding my hands. “Not the other way around.”
“I could tell you, down to the color of her eyes, my perfect woman,” he said, shifting to get out a leather billfold. “But that would end the interview here, and we’re just getting started. Let’s head over to the hotel.”
“I can expense lunch—Beman’s delighted we’re doing this,” I said, reaching into my handbag.
His expression sobered as he picked up the check. “Lunch is on me. This time together is ours, and only ours. When you’re with me, no other man will ever pay my bill.”
My heart skipped with his declaration. Byno other man, I suspected he didn’t mean Beman. And he didn’t mean money literally, either, but time.
My time with David belonged only to David.
He had a possessive side, and over someone who didn’t even remotely belong to him.
It should’ve opened my eyes to the fact that even a simple lunch was dangerous territory for us. David’s company today had been far too natural, his questions too spot-on, his observations welcome when with anyone else, I would’ve shied away.
It was just one more thing to feel confused about.
12
David’s hotel overlooked the Chicago River. He and I walked from the restaurant, winding our way along the water in easy silence.
Fluffy, dense clouds spotted the sky, passing over the high sun. The river gleamed with the reflection of light, as if covered in gold sequins.
You are KILLING me in that gold dress, honeybee.
David’s inappropriate text about my dress shivered through me. I’d been likened to an owl before by my father, for wide, curious eyes he’d said I’d had since childhood. But I’d never had a pet name likehoneybee. Innocent—yet sexy, only because it had come from David.
“That’s it,” David said, nodding ahead. I tilted my gaze back and took in the imposing building. Gray slate made up the lobby’s exterior, while the guest rooms from that point up were silver, mirrored glass. The building defied physics by curving outward along one side, dipping in, and then bowing out again slightly in the shape of the letter “B”.
