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“Yes.”

I waited, but he didn’t offer anything else.

“Very mysterious.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“You asked whether I have a name. I answered that particular question.”

I stared at the back of his head, smirking.

The bastard was funny.

I moved around the chair and positioned myself between his knees. He gave me room, but only because he chose to. There was strength in the way he held himself, even at rest. Thick thighs beneath tailored trousers. Broad hands resting loosely on the chair arms. A pale scar across one knuckle. Another near his thumb. His body looked like something built for violence and trained not to waste it.

I leaned down, allowing my hair to fall forward over one shoulder. “Do you always summon women without telling them why?”

“Only the ones avoiding people who have been trying to reach them.”

His answer nearly broke my rhythm. I covered it up by shifting one knee onto the edge of the chair, the heel of my other foot still planted firmly on the floor for balance.

“Is that what this is?” I murmured. “A message service?”

“Not at all.”

His eyes held mine and a knot tightened in my stomach.

“What is it then?”

“We’ll get to that.”

I smiled and let my hand settle on his shoulder. He didn’t stop me.

“You bought a dance,” I said. “Maybe try enjoying it.”

“I am,” he replied.

“You hide it well.”

“I don’t perform for strangers.”

My smile tightened. I slid my hand down the front of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the fabric.

There was something inside the left pocket of his jacket. I thought it might be a phone, judging by the rectangular shape. A wallet might be beneath it. Either would give me more information than the man himself appeared inclined to offer.

I leaned closer, letting my mouth hover near his ear. “Most men come in here to forget who they are.”

“I know who I am.”

“Lucky you.”

My fingers moved beneath his lapel. Slowly. Two fingertips toward the inside pocket, hidden by the angle of my body and the fall of my hair. I had lifted phones from drunken financiers, watches from married senators, and once removed an entire key ring from the belt of a man who insisted no one could sneak up on him.

This should have been easy, but his hand closed around my wrist before I touched whatever was in his pocket.

He didn’t look down.