“In exchange for what?” Jared said with an unblinking stare.
“Forget I exist.”
“And allow you to continue where they had left off? Not gonna happen, you prick,” Brock sneered.
“The offer is on the table. I suggest you think it over because believe me, you won’t get a better deal… not if you want to put them away for good.”
Chapter Eight
Brock: Pick you up for dinner at seven. Wear a little black dress with heels.
Jordan read the text message for the umpteenth time since Brock had sent it early that morning. At first she’d simmered at his audacity to inform her of the date and not do the gentlemanly thing to ask her. It hadn’t lasted past the excitement at the prospect of finally having him alone all to herself. Well, she had every intention of that happening after dinner. She’d be able to hold herself in check in a crowded restaurant— at least she hoped she could.
“If I have to wear a little black dress, he’s going to be decked out in a black suit and tie. Shit! I can already envision how sexy he’s going to look… all edible and yummy.”
She added a final coat of mascara to her long lashes.
“There. If he can resist this package then he’s got ice in his veins.” She twirled as she stared at herself in the reflection.
The charcoal shadow gave her eyes a mysterious look, complemented by a coral lipstick that glistened on her pouty lips. She’d opted for a form-fitting black mini with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice of the dress hugged low in her back with gorgeous sheer lace fabric that made up the side panels and shoulder straps. It paired beautifully with ankle strap stiletto sandals. The straps crisscrossing the bridge of her feet gave them a delicate look.
With her hair loosely gathered up, she portrayed chic and sultry while glowing with femininity— exactly what she’d aimed for.
Her eyes drifted to the bedside clock at the sound of the doorbell.
“Impressive, Mr., Carter— right on time,” she murmured as she picked up a black lace clutch bag and descended the stairs of her quaint beach-side cottage on 25th Avenue in Sea Cliff, a couple of houses down from Paxton’s property.
Jordan’s look was carnal as she stared at the vision of absolute male godliness upon opening the door. She tilted her head and said saucily, “I have to say, Mr. Carter, you clean up rather nicely.”
“Thank you, Miss Sutton.” He took a step closer. “You on the other hand did more than clean up. You take my breath away, love.”
Like a spectral marvel at sunset, he tilted her chin and searched the glimmer in her eyes that sparked from the ring of jagged silver fire surrounding the black pupils before being swallowed by sapphire blue.
“Tonight, I’m going to be the envy of those who could only wish to be in my shoes, beautiful.”
His breath warming her skin was the only warning she got before he brushed his mouth against hers and tucked into the plump delicacy of her lower lip.
Heaven. Absolute heaven!Jordan sighed into the kiss and leaned closer; her fingers speared through his hair as she became intoxicated by the woodsy scent of his cologne.
“However seductive this moment is, we have to go.”
“Are you sure? I make a mean mac and cheese.” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I for one won’t mind if we skipped a lavish dinner for something a little more… intimate.”
“Hmm, tempting but no.” He smiled at the petulant pout she offered. “But I’ll take you up on that offer later tonight.”
She frowned. “I don’t follow. I thought we’re going to dinner.”
“We are but I also have some vigorous activities planned afterwards. You can be guaranteed we’ll need to restore our energy.”
“Well then, shall we get this dress-up dinner over with so we can enjoythatpart of the evening sooner?” She winked as she dropped a cheeky kiss against his chin and skirted around him.
A deep groan resonated in his chest as his eyes clocked the rhythmic sway of her hips when she ascended the front patio stairs. The tight dress and incandescent glow of a pendant light accentuated the softness of her round buttocks. He welcomed the surge of heat in his loins as blood vessels became engorged to accommodate a throbbing arousal.
Dinner was going to be torture… however much he was looking forward to a pleasurable sparring with her.
“Top of the Mark, a restaurant fixture for eight decades on the nineteenth floor of the Mark Hopkins Hotel is quite simply, a quintessential San Francisco experience,” Jordan read the inscription from the menu once seated in an ultra-exclusive semi-private dining area that offered spectacular views of the San Francisco skyline, the Bay, and the Golden Gate Bridge.
“I have to admit I’m duly impressed, Brock. This restaurant is known to dazzle political dignitaries, celebrities, and in-the-know visitors from all over the globe.” She tapped a nail against the water glass. “C’mon, out with it. How did you manage to get a table? From what I heard it takes months to secure a booking.” She gazed out again over the 360-degree panorama before her eyes found the intimate dance floor and she became aware of the soft tones of a band providing background music. Her insides quivered at the thought of swaying to a slow jazz tune with his strong arms wrapped around her.