I look down at the ground and see his expensive boots polished to a mirror shine. I regret it even before I say it. ‘I won’t bother, thanks.’
‘Why not, Lily?’
‘The truth?’
‘Of course.’ He gazes at me with those smoldering eyes.
And fire flows into my blood. Jesus! I’ve never had it this bad for any man. ‘I don’t do one-night stands.’
‘Whatever gave you the impression that it would be a one-night stand?’ His eyes are curious, quizzical, fascinated.
My heart swells. He sure knows which buttons to press. He takes a step closer. I should make him try harder. ‘I want to go on a date.’
He smiles, a look of genuine happiness on his face. ‘On a date? With me?’
I nod. ‘Could be fun.’
‘I knew I’d like you.’
I grin, feeling protected and precious.
‘Come on,’ he says, and leads me to a white Porsche 918 Spyder.
I don’t know where the night is taking me—some distant warning that it could be dangerous clamors in my skull—but the call seems distant and inconsequential, and I turn away from it. I tell myself it is just a snapshot in time. Here, there, and then gone forever. Why shouldn’t I have this night? Without thought. Without consequence. Embrace, kiss, no rules, no guilt, just get and give pleasure. Only tonight. It will never be more, anyway. Not with men like him. For men like him, women come and go. So I will just do this one time.
I slide into the cool interior, and he shuts the door behind me.
‘Nice car.’
‘Yeah, I like it.’
He doesn’t have to drive far. The car stops in front of a deserted bar. All the windows are shuttered. A young man runs out of a darkened doorway and Jake chucks the car keys to him, and, putting his palm on the small of my back, leads me toward the darkened doorway.
I look up at him. ‘The place looks closed.’
‘It’s closed to some and open to others.’
The door is opened from inside. There are doormen just inside who nod respectfully to Jake and two receptionists who fuss obsequiously over him. We go through a side door and come upon a room that looks like the interior of a pub. It smells of beer and feet. The stools have been overturned on the tables ready for the floor to be cleaned in the morning.
‘What’s this place?’ I ask.
‘A gambling den.’
‘What?’
‘Yup. When the bar closes, the real activities begin in the back rooms.’
‘An illegal gambling operation?’
‘Something like that. Have a seat,’ he invites, and I sit on one of the tall padded stools next to the bar.
He goes behind the bar. ‘Do you want champagne?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m a bit sick of the smell of champagne.’
‘What would you rather?’ he asks softly.
‘Whiskey.’
He nods, grabs two glasses, puts them on the bar and reaches for a bottle in one smooth move. It tells me he has worked a bar before. He tips the whiskey bottle the way bartenders at swanky nightclubs do, from up high and continuously. The bottom of the bottle finds its way to the bar surface with a thump. We lift our glasses—there is no toasting—and drink. He downs his and picks up the bottle and refills his glass. A pulse throbs at his throat and he looks restless and edgy.
‘So this is your idea of a date?’
He takes a large swallow. ‘At this time of the night? Yeah.’
I really have to stop staring at him. Even if he is heart-stoppingly beautiful. ‘If it wasn’t this time of the night?’
He looks at me with those amazing, bottomless green eyes and pours the rest of the whiskey down his throat. ‘I’d have tried to impress you by taking you to a fancy restaurant.’
He pours another glass.
I look at the glass and back up to his eyes and try to remember him as he was on the beach, the warmth of his smile, and I can’t, because the man in front of me seems so far removed from that man. About him is an air of danger and expectancy. My skin sizzles with it. I know just lurking underneath our apparently meaningless conversation are deep sexual undercurrents.
‘Should you be drinking so much? You still have to drive me home,’ I say to cover my awareness.
‘I’m not driving you, Lily. If I drive you somewhere I’m going to end up fucking you.’ He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his predatory eyes. At that moment he looks sexy as hell.
I hurriedly look down at my drink. My thighs are clenching like fists.
He rests his elbows on the bar and leans forward. ‘So, tell me about yourself.’
I look up and lick my lips. His eyes drop to my mouth. ‘Not much to tell, really. A life wasted.’ I pick up my glass and empty it. The alcohol goes straight to my head.