“Um…” Her body shuddered on an exhale. “The night is still young?”
Jonah’s soft laugh ended abruptly when Caroline’s teeth skated up the side of his neck. “Ah, sweetheart, you’ll have to stop that for now. We’re underground. Not a deserted patio in sight.”
Caroline pressed shaky fingers to her swollen lips as she pulled back. “You started it.”
“I did,” he agreed, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb.
For a few moments, they made a pretense of watching the musicians, although he suspected they both needed the time to reel in their desire. Caroline sipped her drink, which left shining liquor coating her lips. Jonah had to force himself not to lick away every drop. When the song ended, she turned to him as if an idea had occurred. “Has anything changed with Gabby? The visitation…”
“You remembered her name,” he murmured, mostly to himself. For some strange reason, hearing another person say his daughter’s name out loud made her all the more real. Even his lawyer never referred to Gabby by name, usually calling her “the child” instead. Sometimes Jonah wondered if he was dreaming the entire situation, and he didn’t have a daughter at all. Not unusual, considering his entire acquaintance with her consisted of a single photograph. Caroline simply releasing it into the atmosphere, however, brought Gabby to life.
Now, she looked away uncomfortably. “Of course I did.”
Her reaction told Jonah to keep his overly sentimental thoughts to himself. “No news yet. We’re waiting for Renee, her mother, to agree to a meeting.”
“Is that going to happen?”
Jonah shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Caroline if she thought he deserved visitation, given his lifestyle. But he didn’t want to hear her answer, was afraid it would condemn him. He suspected her negative opinion would score deeper than anyone else’s had thus far.
“Do you have any family helping you pursue this?”
“No. It’s just me.”
A small sound escaped her, filling the scant space between them. She looked pensive for a moment before staring him in the eye. “You’ll be a great dad, Jonah. I really believe that.”
Before he could manage a response, she leaned back on his shoulder and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Part of him was grateful she couldn’t see his face after the gift she’d so unexpectedly given him, because he was fairly certain he looked shell-shocked. Was it possible she could be right? Could he be the father he’d never had?
Jonah lost track of the time as they sat there, Caroline’s body intertwined with his, their easy breaths mingling together as the music let them drift, forget about the factors keeping them apart. In the dark, unknown to anyone around them, they weren’t Caroline Preston, the Ivy League graduate, heir to a legendary financial publication, and Jonah Briggs, controversial BDSM club owner.
They were just two people who couldn’t seem to stay away from each other.
At some point, Caroline lifted her head and looked into his eyes. When she spoke, he had to strain to hear. “It’s time for me to go.”
Keeping his features schooled to hide his disappointment, Jonah nodded and pulled out his wallet. His disappointment vexed him momentarily. What the hell had he expected? After paying the small tab and tipping the waitress, he led her out of the club and back up the stairs. As opposed to before when they’d entered the club, there was nothing playful about leaving. Neither one of them spoke as Jonah stood, one foot in the street, to hail down a yellow cab for Caroline. It pulled up alongside them, and he opened the back door, trying to ignore the sense of panic sitting on his lungs. God, he was getting sick to death of parting ways with her, not knowing whether or not he would see her again.
Before she could stoop down to climb into the backseat, Jonah captured her chin in his hand and tilted her face up for a deep, thorough kiss. Remember how this feels, he mentally implored her. “Good night, Caroline.”
“’Bye, Jonah.”
This time when Caroline drove away, she didn’t look back.
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday afternoon in Bryant Park was unusually busy. The crisp fall weather had gone on hiatus, replaced with unseasonably warm temperatures. Businessmen were sprawled out on the lawn eating hot dogs purchased from street vendors. Tourists, mangled maps in their hands, wound among the suits on their way to the library or a Broadway show.
Nearby where Caroline sat on a shaded bench, someone had music blasting though his headphones, the distant, tinny noise tunneling past her eardrums to assault her fuzzy brain.