"I'll keep it in mind," I finally say. "You're right. It won't be good if this turns into something else. So I'll keep it all business. Strictly professional." I almost sound like I've convinced myself. "I'll go there, give him his wallet back, let him know I'm truly sorry for everything, and leave it at that."
Hannah lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Don't be mad at me. I just want what's best for you."
"I know," I say. "Come here." I hold my arms out to her and we embrace. "You're not Mindy, but you make a decent placeholder."
Hannah laughs. "Oh, shut up."
Mr. Felix just rawrs.
On the way over to the club, Hannah and I talk very little. My mind is filled with what I'm going to say to Jake. The first night I met him, my mind was overrun with hormones and I couldn't even focus on what he was saying. All I could see were those eyes that could command me to do anything. But now . . .
We pull up to the club. Surprisingly, there's a lot of cars for a Monday night. This is a nightclub, not a sports bar showing Monday Night Football.
"Remember," Hannah says as I get out, "keep it business."
"Right. All business," I say as we hug briefly. "I'll be back by ten. Jake said he'll give me a ride home, but I'll be home by eleven at the latest, okay?"
"Okay," Hannah says, giving me a look in the eyes. "Ten would be better."
"Okay, Mom," I half tease, patting her on the cheek. "You know he said you could come too."
"Yeah, I'm sure he would like that," Hannah teases, giving me a wiseass grin.
The line isn't out the door like it was Saturday night, but still, the place is fairly busy as I go inside. The music is good, more low-key than it was over the weekend. Thankfully, Jake is expecting me. I doubt I'd get in right now otherwise. "Hi," I tell the doorman. "Mr. Stone is expecting me. Roxy Price?"
The doorman, still one of the MIB crew, checks his tablet before nodding. "Just a moment, Miss Price."
He turns and talks quietly into his earpiece before nodding. "Is there a problem?"
"Not at all," the doorman says as another of the MIB come over. "John, here, will take you to see Mr. Stone."
"Right this way," John, who looks like he should be in the Secret Service instead of working nightclub security, says with a slight bow of his head. As we make our way through the club, I see that my first impression was wrong. This place is nearly packed.
I think the difference is the clientele. Over the weekend, most of the clubbers were younger, twenty- and thirty-somethings. This group is at least a decade older, and the music reflects it. I'm hearing some stuff that hasn't been in heavy rotation since the turn of the millennium. Then again, Will Smith is pretty smooth on Switch.
As John walks with me past the bar, I feel a moment of rising anxiety as I look around for the creepy bastard who tried to drug me, but I don't see him. John notices and gives me a reassuring smile. "All clear tonight, Miss Price. Come, Mr. Stone is waiting for you upstairs."
I look up and see Jake leaning on the railing of the VIP section, giving me a little wave. I wave back, and John leads me up, giving me the same little nod before he peels off to watch the steps to the VIP level. I'm surprised when I see that Jake's alone up here. We have the whole level to ourselves.
"You're looking dapper," I comment as he comes over. He's changed from the suit he wore to work into a slightly tighter fitting, brighter gray suit that just barely gleams in the club lights. "How many suits do you own, anyway?"
"Enough," he says easily, and as he steps closer, I'm just staggered again by his magnetism. He has this confident ease about him that isn't cocky. It's more like he's saying Yes, I have the looks, but I'm more than that. "Come on, I have a booth for us."
He leads me over to a nice booth, all done in black velvet with a low ebony table in the middle. "Let me get you a drink," he says, signaling the waitress. "A Little Mermaid," he says, "and a Highlander."
I give him a raised eyebrow, and he chuckles. "You'll like it, relax. You look amazing, by the way. Love what you did with your eyes. It totally changes your expression from work."
His eyes roam over my face, causing my skin to feel like I've got a low grade sunburn. I feel sexy, and when I do a switch on my legs, crossing my right over my left, his eyes watch every movement. I love the way he makes me feel. It's like we never left off. "Are you saying I looked bad at work?" I ask playfully. "Less feminine?"
Jake licks his lips and laughs. "Hardly. But you looked scared out of your mind. Not like you do now. You look at home."
I shrug, reaching into my purse. "Here's your wallet. Uh, just to let you know, I robbed you blind."
He chuckles and takes it from my hand. "I doubt that."
Without even opening it, he takes the wallet and slides it into his jacket pocket. I stare at him for a moment, shocked. "You're not going to count the money?"
"I trust you," he says confidently. "You look more like an angel than a thief."
I blush, then I laugh. "Okay, just don't get mad when you get the credit card bill for that trip to Hawaii I booked, complete with matching Louis Vuitton luggage."
Jake laughs again. "You're not the type for LV luggage."
The waitress comes back with our drinks. His Highlander looks interesting, almost like root beer, of all things. "What the hell is that?"
"Two ounces Japanese sake, two ounces of Scotch whisky, and the rest is Coke over crushed ice," he says, lifting the clear beer mug. "Basically a Duncan Macleod, but we use real Highland scotch, so we renamed it."
I nod and take a sip of mine. It's fruity, with bright highlights, and I can already tell I'm going to have to go easy on it. I've got work in the morning, and I'm not supposed to be going home with Jake. "Damn, this is good."
"Thank you. I had a hand in making it," Jake says, sipping his mug.
"Did you? And did you have a hand in the drink the first night too?" I ask, and Jake shakes his head.
"No, wish I could say I did. The name alone is nice, though, don't you think?"
I laugh as I take another sip of my drink. "It certainly makes memories. And the club?"
"Nathan and I had an architect help with the details, but we chose most of the layout. I wanted something different from the average club."
"It's one of the nicest I've ever been in," I say honestly. "Nothing like Trixie's."
Jake takes a slow sip of his Highlander and sets it down, raising an eyebrow. "Trixie's?"
I nod. "The club I used to sing at." And shake my ass like nobody's business. "It was my favorite place back home."
"You're a singer?" he says with some surprise. "You're just full of little talents, aren't you? What kind of music?"
"Nothing anymore," I say, feeling the pain in my chest that comes with talking about it. Those days are gone. Despite Mindy's encouragement, I haven't given much thought to singing. But looking over the railing of the VIP lounge at the stage, I feel that same longing and admit to myself that there's a void where singing used to be in my heart. I force myself to look away, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I stopped when I went back to college."
"Why?" Jake asks, leaning forward. "I can see in your eyes that you practically want to run down there right now and grab a mic."
"Yeah, well," I say softly, shaking my head, "I didn't think it was right that I wasn't really making any money doing it and instead was mooching off my mom and stepfather. I thought it was time to move on, support myself."
Jake nods, but he doesn't look convinced. "Let me ask you, which makes you happier, singing or working at Franklin?"
"Singing," I answer without even pausing for breath. "I don't care what. Rock, pop, just about anything but country. But . . . like I said, I'm done living off someone else, Jake."
Jake hums, then finishes the rest of his drink. "Mind singing something for me? Call it . . . call it your penance for accidentally stealing my wallet."
"I don't think so," I say. "I haven't sung in so long, I'm pretty sure my voice would crack. I don't want to burst your eardrums. I thought I killed you once as it is."
Jake chuckles. He looks like he wants to press the issue but doesn't. Instead, he leans back, crossing his hands over his left knee. "Point taken. For now, but I'm not giving up just yet."
I'm almost tempted to say that I could maybe sing a little tonight, but before I can, Nathan comes up the stairs, cursing and yelling into the air. "I told you to check the fucking hidden costs, didn't I? In fact, I remember specifically telling you, ‘No way in hell should you sink your money in this, Titus. It's a golden turd.' Now you're calling me to bitch that you're losing money? Get the fuck outta' here!"