Ruthless In A Suit(53)

“I’m starting to rethink my plans for the second half of the evening.”

“There’s more?” I nod yes.

“Emily, this is only dinner. The real surprise is afterward.”

“What, your place?” Her foot reaches over to my leg under the table, touching me lightly, letting me know what she’s thinking.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that afterward,” I say. “But there’s something right after dinner that I have planned.”

“You’re spoiling me,” she says. The grin that plays on her lips says she likes it.

“You deserve it,” I tell her. “Watching you experience this stuff is worth it.”

“I don’t know if I could ever get used to it,” she says, gazing out at the view.

“What do you mean?” I ask, curious. She seems to be saying something bigger, about the future. We haven’t talked about a future or a true commitment—although I’m totally committed to her in a way I’ve never been with a woman—but I’ve already felt that we could work out. We could be together for the long term. Fine, marriage. I barely let myself think that word since it’s something I’ve never thought about for myself. I know it would be easy in the sense that it could fix things for work but I don’t want to exploit Emily, or push her into something for my own benefit. But Emily makes me think about those things. With Emily, I can see that kind of future. Now, though, is she saying she can’t see it?

“I don’t know,” she says. “I was just raised more simply, that a meal at home is more meaningful than at a table floating above the city. That’s why we have Sunday brunches. I don’t go out to my parent’s place in Lexington every weekend but I go as often as I can, and so do my brother and sister. It’s casual, nothing fancy, but some of my best memories are from sitting around that table, eating food we cooked ourselves.”

“I cooked for you.” I have to admit, I’m feeling a bit defensive. Does she not like what I have to offer her?

“I know,” she says, reaching out for my hand. “I’m not saying…I don’t know what I’m saying but I’m pretty sure I sound like a jerk. Jackson, this is incredible. I love it. No one has ever treated me like this. It makes me feel…special.”

“You are special,” I tell her, kissing her hand. “You deserve to be treated to the best views and the best food and the best wine. The best of everything.”

“I’m not sure if I deserve all of that,” she says.

“I can cancel the second half of tonight if you want me to,” I say, praying she won’t actually do that.

“No,” she says. Now her face is light and full of mischief. “I want that surprise. I can’t wait to see what you’ve drummed up.”

“I think you’ll like it,” I tease her. “If you’re not too much of a snob about it.”

“I’m not a snob!” she says, leaning toward me, her scent wafting over me.

“Come here,” I say. She leans closer and I kiss her lips because her protests are too cute.

“How can I be a snob if I’m broke?” she says.

“Emily Brown, may I suggest a theory?”

“What?” she says, tipping back her champagne flute.

“I think you might be prejudice against people of wealth.”

She almost chokes on the champagne.

“That’s not even a thing,” she says when she recovers.

“Sure it is,” I say with total seriousness. “You look down on people with money.”

“You are people with money. I wouldn’t be here if that were true.”

“Maybe you’re gathering evidence. Maybe you’re using me to find all the terrible things I do with my money so that you can report back to the middle class.” I quite like joking with her, but when I look at her I see that her face has changed.

“Jackson, I really hope you don’t think I’m using you,” she says. “I would never do that. I didn’t mean to act unappreciative…”

“Stop,” I say, reaching out for her again. I shift in my seat and lean in closer to her face. “I don’t think that for a second. I promise.”

“Because I could sit in the Public Gardens with you and watch the ducks and I’d be just as happy.”

“Emily,” I say. “I like taking you out. I like watching you experience things you’ve never seen or done. It makes me happy. Okay?”

She nods and leans toward me to seal it with a kiss. I keep her hands in mine, loving their warmth.

I’m really starting to believe that everything is going to work out—with Emily and the company and Father’s deathbed demands.