I chuckled. “Mary Shelley.”
“What?” He blinked.
I grinned. “Ms. Shelley took the tools she had, a creepy vacation and her imagination, and created something no one had seen before. Social media’s the same. It’s not about duck faces or even tasty, beautiful meals; it’s about what you bring to life with it.”
“Fascinating,” he murmured. He rapped his knuckles on the table. “I believe I’d better revisit Mary Shelley.”
“And Jane Austen,” I said. “She had such a witty, acerbic way of writing. Her books are so full of life. Those women wrote to be heard, to test ideas, to claim space in a world reluctant to listen.”
“Mmmm... I see your point.” He looked past me at Gunnar. “Keep this one close. She’s got a great mind, seeing connections most miss.”
“I plan on it.” Gunnar’s hand slid up my side to my ribs. My skin blossomed in goose bumps, and my heart kicked into high gear.
The older man chuckled. “I always knew you were a smart man, Gunnar. Well, I wish you both a happy evening.”
We said our goodbyes as we rose.
“Ready?” Gunnar asked, staring down at me with his cool, assessing gaze.
I bit my lip as I nodded. “Yes.” It came out breathy, needy. Because I was. I’d spent the last couple of days imagining Gunnar as a lover, and that made me more than ready for the full experience. Again, I had to press my thighs together. Needing to change the subject, I asked, “Who was that gentleman?”
Gunnar shot me a look. “Michael Dowd. He’s the president of the most powerful business association in the state.”
“Wh-what?” I asked.
Gunnar’s palm warmed my lower back as he led me out to his car. He opened the door and settled me into the seat. Once he’d buckled in and started the car, he shot me a smile. “You charmed him,” he noted with pride. “You really are an amazing woman, Rookie.”
“I like that you call me that,” I said.
He settled his free hand atop mine, where it rested on my thigh. “I like that, too.”
I shifted in the seat to face him more directly before linking my fingers with his. “Thank you for inviting me back to your place.”
I wanted to say more, but I chickened out. Perhaps it was Gunnar’s age or status or…I wasn’t sure. But I knew his rejection would hurt so much more than any of my previous boyfriends’.
Thanks to the late hour, the freeways were much less congested, and it wasn’t long before Gunnar pulled up to an impressive set of wrought-iron gates. They slid open with quiet efficiency, and we then drove along a stretch of smooth herringbone bricks until we reached the house. Up lit by garden lights, the two-story home’s red brick matched the impressive drive, and four white columns held up a second-story deck from which four more columns supported the pitched roof. A glossy black door with mullioned panes inset above the handle and on either side was centered between the farthest columns, while windows were spaced between the next two.
Large live oaks, maples, and a few other trees I didn’t know the names of dotted the property, and between them was a carpet of emerald green grass. The place was tidy and impressive but didn’t seem like a billionaire’s residence. In fact, some of the players’ homes I’d been to while filming them doing day-to-day activities were much showier.
Gunnar slid the gearshift into park and waited.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “You know that.”
He gave a faint nod. “But I want you to like it. To be comfortable here.”
My brows tugged together, but he was already stepping out of the car and coming around to my door. He took my hand and helped me out, then led me across the bricks, up a few steps to the porch, and inside. A wooden staircase curved from the side of the entryway up to the second floor, with wood-framed, French-inspired windows making up the wall. The night was too dark, but I could envision how the multitude of glass allowed plenty of light during the day. Hardwood floors in a similar herringbone pattern covered the entire lower level. They were warm and polished to a high sheen.
“Want a drink?” Gunnar asked.
I shook my head, nerves slithering through my belly. Gunnar moved closer and wrapped me in a hug. I hadn’t realized how much I needed the connection until I sighed out some of the tension I’d been holding.
“You were the belle of the ball,” he said. “I wanted nothing more than to let everyone know you were there with me.”
I smiled as I tightened my arms around his waist. “I doubt that, considering how all those women were drooling over you.” I pulled back to smooth the lapels of his tuxedo. “You look smashing in this.”
His lips tipped up on the right side, and his glacial eyes warmed as he looked down at me. “I’d like you to share my bed.”
Oh my. I swallowed, because this was the moment. I could demur, or I could jump into this thing with Gunnar wholeheartedly. I thought of my mother’s illness, of my years of playing it safe. I didn’t want to be safe with Gunnar. I wanted to explore all the messy, big feelings he brought out in me. This is what I said I wanted. I took a deep breath. “Yes, please.”
