“Oh, right.” He looked up from his phone. “Of course. Shower. Dinner. Then…”
He stared down at her.
Yep.Then.
5
Deacon waitedat the round table in the suite’s dining alcove, a more intimate setting than the large live edge table, already seated with his hands loosely clasped before him and his attention split between the city lights winking through the window and the silver-domed cloches that hid the room service feast beneath. The dimmed lights in the sconces surrounding the room gave the area a chilled vibe. Casual. But right now, he felt anything but.
His head lifted at the sound of bare feet on hardwood. What he saw stole his breath. Out of the wardrobe he’d had sent up, she’d chosen the Good American soft denim jeans that Sonja, the in-house seamstress, had suggested that were apparently four sizes fits all and a soft blue cashmere sweater that fell off her shoulder, revealing the strap of the lace bralette from La Perla Sonja had selected, which made him assume she was wearing the matching underwear, but he was going to try very hard not to think about, otherwise he would be very hard.
Jen glanced down as she nervously ran her hand alongthe hem of the sweater. “Is this… is someone going to be upset that I’m in their clothes?”
“Someone?” he repeated, not sure who she was referring to.
“I’m assuming this is your girlfriend’s or sister’s or?—”
“I had them sent up.”
Her head lifted. “Sent up?”
“From downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” she repeated as if she didn’t believe him.
“There are boutiques downstairs in the hotel.” He’d take her down there to prove it, but he didn’t want to run into staff.
He stood and walked to the trash where he’d thrown away the tags he’d taken off the clothes and handed them to her. He hadn’t wanted her to see the prices, he thought that was tacky, but her thinking they were another woman’s was even tackier.
She looked down at them and then back up again. “How did you know my sizes?”
“It was…yeah, I just…” How did he explain that he’d asked Sonja to look at the security footage of her arriving and in the elevator? And that she was so good at her job, she’d been able to tell? “I guessed,” he lied.
“Hmm.” She smiled and lowered down onto the seat nearest to her, looking slightly overwhelmed. “I don’t know if that’s creepy or not.”
“If I get a vote, I votenot.” In hopes to distract her with food, he quickly removed the cloches nearest to her, then continued. He’d basically ordered one of everything on the menu. Whatever was leftover would be donated to the food bank, just like the excess food at the memorial today had been.
“Holy shit.” Her eyes grew to the size of the cloches.
“I wasn’t sure what would sound good to you.”
“This is giving Edward Lewis.” She fanned her arm over the table as her eyes lit up at the coq au vin. He lifted the plate, and she nodded, so he set it in front of her. He poured a glass of Pinot Noir, which paired beautifully with the slow-roasted chicken dish, and set it beside her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Deacon sat and began to eat his Wagyu ribeye. “Edward Lewis?” he repeated, not catching the reference.
“Richard Gere inPretty Woman, he orders a lavish breakfast for Julia Roberts because he doesn’t know her preferences.”
“Ahh.” He’d only seen that movie once and that wasn’t the part that jumped out in his memory. The piano scene, nowthatmade an impression.
“Which would make me a prostitute in this scenario.” A forced smile spread on Jen’s face. “If only James could see me now.”
Deacon had a lot of things he wanted to say about her husband, but he thought it best not to say anything, so he didn’t say anything at all.
“I hate that you heard him say those things.”
“Why?” he asked.
