“Ah. The magic unicorn men.”
“Exactly. With appropriate looks and assets.” It’s clear that he considers himself to be in this supernatural category.
“Uh-huh.” I take a sip of my Dom. I’m not blurting out whatever just comes to my head, which at the moment is that Emmett Lasker could be a magic unicorn man—if he came with an appropriate heart. “I’m looking for more than just a man with a pretty face and money.”
Emmett looks like he wants to add something to my list, but presses his lips together. Which is good. I don’t want the distraction.
“I want a man with a heart and soul I can fall in love with.”
“That isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to money and looks. Or better bedroom technique.” Emmett speaks as though he’s imparting the lost wisdom of the universe.
I don’t miss the way his fingers subtly curl toward himself, either. Arrogant jerk. And so annoying, since his arrogance isn’t totally unfounded. “I’m sure, but I don’t want to make a snap judgment after looking only at the exterior.”
“But you wouldn’t have fallen for a guy who forced you to hike and cook and clean on your vacation. Would you?”
It’s eerie to watch the contempt drip from Emmett as he describes what was essentially Rick’s plan for the six-month anniversary trip. Not that I disagree. “Are you kidding? That’d be my idea of hell. The best vacation is one where I don’t have to do anything. I want to lie there like a phone plugged into a charger and left in peace to reenergize.”
Emmett nods and somehow makes the movement look smug. “Thought so.”
I put my fork down, since every berry on my plate has been scooped up. I finish the Dom with a happy sigh. “Let me treat you to brunch.”
“I don’t let women pay for my meals.”
He sounds slightly annoyed. I’m sure part of it has to do with the fact that I’m also his subordinate. Bosses pick up the tab. It’s expected, especially in our profession. “What I mean is, to thank you for getting me home safely last night.”
He waves it away. “Glad to help. Also, you stripped down to your panties right in front of me last night. So let’s call it even.”
I almost choke on my own spit. His tone is so dry that I can’t tell if he’s messing with me or what. But the way his gaze burns as he looks at me… My lady parts clench. I shift in my seat to relieve the uncomfortable achiness.
“Don’t worry. I was a gentleman. I worked out a few new ways to make money off credit default and currency swaps instead. Which I plan to execute and make an ass-load of money off soon. So I don’t mind.”
The waiter appears with a white folio for the check. Emmett hands over his black AmEx but never takes his eyes off me.
I say nothing. This is my fault for trying to be nice. Nice doesn’t go appreciated in Emmett’s world.
“Thank you.” The words come out stiff, despite my effort to remain unaffected—or at least project an unaffected mien.
“You’re welcome.”
He signs for the slip our waiter comes back, and we leave the bistro together. I start to head toward the main door, but Emmett moves toward the elevator bank, his hand at my elbow to guide me toward him.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To the seventh floor.”
I swallow a gasp. “I’m not going to sleep with you,” I hiss, in case he thought that’s what we’re doing next.
He stops abruptly. I almost bump into him.
“First of all, I never stay on the seventh floor,” he says. “Penthouse suites all the way.”
“Oh, right. The ones that come with a grand piano nobody plays.”
“I never thought about them that way, but yes. Second, we both live in L.A., so we wouldn’t have to get a room at a hotel for sex.”
My face starts to heat. “Fine. So why do you want me to go to the seventh floor with you?”
“Because there’s a spa there.”