She leaned forward. "Now, let me see one of yours."
"It's pretty good." He tucked his credit card in the leather folder discreetly placed at his elbow. "Nearly up there with spelling bee champion."
"I'll be the judge."
"I was Curly in my high school's production of Oklahoma!"
"Seriously?" She pointed at him. "I've heard you sing. You're good. But I didn't know you had any interest in acting."
"None. I was interested in Zoe Malloy, who was up for the part of Laurey. Crazy about her. So I put it all out there for 'Surrey with the Fringe on Top,' and got the part."
"Did you get Zoe?"
"I did. For a few shining weeks. Then, unlike Curly and Laurey, we parted. And that was the end of my acting career."
"I bet you made a great cowboy."
He sent her a quick, teasing grin. "Well, Zoe certainly thought so."
With the bill addressed, he rose, held out a hand for hers.
"Let's walk the long way around." She laced her fingers with his. "I bet it's a beautiful night."
It was. Warm and sparkling so even the traffic jamming the streets glittered and gleamed. They strolled, winding their way around the blocks and back to the grand front entrance of the hotel.
People swept in and out, in business suits, in jeans, in evening clothes. "Always busy," she said. "Like a movie where no one ever says 'cut.' "
"Do you want a drink before we go up?"
"Mmm, no." She tipped her head toward his shoulder as they walked to the elevators. "I've got everything I want."
In the elevator she turned into his arms, tipped her face up to his. Her pulse rate climbed as the car did, up and up, level by level.
When he opened the door, she stepped into candlelight. On the white-draped table a silver bucket held a bottle of champagne. A single red rose speared from a slim vase while around the room tea lights flickered in clear glass. Music drifted, whisper soft.
"Oh, Jack."
"How did this get here?"
Laughing, she took his face in her hands. "You've just bumped this up from great date to dream date. This is amazing. How did you manage it?"
"I arranged for the maitre d' to alert the hotel when they brought the check. Planning isn't just your business."
"Well, I like your plan." She kissed him, lingered for another. "A lot."
"I had a feeling. Should I open the bottle?"
"Absolutely." She wandered to the window. "Look at the view. Everything's still so bright and busy, and here we are."
The bottle opened with a sophisticated pop! When he'd poured the glasses and joined her, she tapped hers to his. "To excellent planning."
"Tell me something else." He touched her hair, just a skim of the fingers. "Something new."
"Another pocket?"
"I've discovered the spelling bee champ, the ace soccer player. These are interesting facets."
"I think we've covered all my hidden skills." She reached out, trailed a fingertip down his tie. "I wonder if you can handle the dark side."
"Try me."
"Sometimes when I'm alone at night, after a long day . . . especially if I'm feeling unsettled. Or on edge-" She broke off, lifted her glass for a sip. "I'm not sure if I should confess this one."
"You're among friends."
"True. Still, not many men really understand some of a woman's needs. And some just can't deal with the fact that there are certain needs they can't meet."
He took a long drink. "Okay, I don't know whether to be scared or fascinated."
"I once asked a man I was seeing to join me one evening for this particular activity. He wasn't ready for it. I've never asked another."
"Does it involve tools? I'm good with tools."
She shook her head and strolled over to top off her glass, then held up the bottle in invitation.
"What I do is . . ." She poured bubbling wine into his glass. "First, I'll take a big glass of wine up to my bedroom, then I'll light candles. I'll put on something soft and comfortable, something that makes me feel relaxed. Feel . . . female. Then I get into bed with all the pillows arranged just so, because I'm about to take a journey just for myself. And when I'm ready . . . When I'm just sinking in . . . I watch my DVD of Truly, Madly, Deeply."
"You watch porn?"
"It's not porn." Laughing, she gave his arm a quick slap. "It's an amazing love story. Juliet Stevenson is devastated when the man she loves, Alan Rickman, dies. She's overwhelmed with grief. Oh, it's painful to watch." Eyes radiating emotion, she laid a hand just under her throat. "I cry buckets. Then he comes back as a ghost. He loves her so much. It rips your heart out, and it makes you laugh."