The past couple of weeks, something about her had changed.
He lit a cigarette as he watched her hail a cab, then slide into the backseat, leaving very little of her fabulously-shaped legs to the imagination. It wasn’t just the tighter, more revealing clothes she’d been wearing lately. Of course, he’d noticed those—what man wouldn’t?—but he could see it in smaller things, things only a close observer might notice.
Her posture, her walk, the way she flipped her hair…
She wasn’t a little girl anymore. Maybe she did have a bad side. And maybe she’d be willing to give up more than just those secrets.
He couldn’t wait to find out.
Chapter 8
Jack was more comfortable in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel than almost anywhere else in the city. The staff knew him by name, and the service was always top notch. He had made some of his best deals over martinis at the bar, and the air there always seemed charged with the spark of winning.
When he’d texted Eva, it seemed only natural to suggest they meet there. Eva was raised in luxury, and a woman with her standards deserved nothing less.
But now, fielding the constant stream of “Good evening, Mr. Bennett”s from the staff as they curiously eyed him for being tie-less for the first time in years, he felt oddly out of place. He checked his Rolex, wondering what was taking her so long, surprised when he realized it was only 5:55.
He was early.
Laughing at himself, he had just made the decision to get a scotch at the bar and cool his heels when a voice called to him. He stood and turned to see Eva striding toward him, looking as surprised as he felt.
“You’re here,” she said, her face flushed. “Hi.”
His breath caught as she moved closer, so close that he could see straight down the V of her black dress. Her breasts were overflowing the neckline, nearly exposed. It was a fucking lethal dress. No wonder most of the men in the lobby couldn’t stop staring.
“I said six, didn’t I?” he muttered, feeling off his game.
“I know, but you’re on time. Early, in fact,” she said. “Is this a first for you when it comes to a date-like scenario?”
“I suppose it is.” He cleared his throat, then lied: “I had some business to attend to earlier in the bar and figured I might as well stick around.”
She reached up flirtatiously and touched the skin between his open collar. “With no tie? I haven’t seen you without a tie since…” Her fingers trailed up his neck. “Well, never.”
What’s gotten into her? But then she started giggling, and he caught a whiff of her olives and sea salt breath and guessed it was a martini or three to blame for her sudden assertiveness.
Control, he told himself. You’re the teacher.
He took her hand from hi
s collar and held it tight. “Had a few cocktails, have we?” he said pleasantly, leading her toward the elevators.
She danced on her toes, wobbling a little but obviously feeling no pain. “I had to. Thinking about that monster in your pants drove me to drink.”
Jack looked sharply around.
She laughed harder. “It’s true. And then I swear someone was following me when I was leaving the bar. It was weird.”
Jack’s brows knitted. “Someone followed you?”
She waved a hand. “No, I’m just getting paranoia-ed. Paranoid,” she corrected with a hiccup. The elevator dinged, and he led her inside before pressing the button for the top floor.
She blinked. “Oh, did you get a room?”
“I was contemplating a few drinks at the Oak Bar first,” he said dryly, making a mental note to quiz her more about her alleged paranoia when she was sober—he wanted to make sure she was safe. “But that’s probably not a good idea. I like my dates to be conscious.”
The smile vanished from her face. “Oh. Okay.”
“I wanted to thank you again,” he said. “For what you did in the board room. Your point of view was meaningful.”