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“I can’t leave them with someone I don’t know.”
The man stops walking and stares at me like he’s waiting for me to come up with another solution. Or like he’s waiting for me to give in, because he already knows he’s won. And even though he has, I’m not quite ready to let him know it yet.
“I’ll call my sister.”
Finley won’t like it. She’s not really a dog person, but I’ll tell her she can invite a few friends over for a sleepover tonight. I’m sure that’ll make up for it. Most of the dogs will be picked up by their owners in just a few hours, anyway. There are two of them, Charlie included, that are supposed to spend the night with me tonight, since their owners have events or late meetings, but Finley can handle two dogs for one night.
Mystery man glances up at the street signs. “Have her meet us on the corner of 7th Avenue and 40th Street. There’s a clothing store there called Monica’s.”
The cross streets he gave are the heart of the fashion district, which makes me a little uneasy. Is that where the party is? “Why there?”
“You need a dress.”
“I have dresses. I’ll go home and change, then meet you at the party. Just let me know the address.” I hold my hand out for the dog’s leashes.
“No.” He continues on at a brisk pace, forcing me to speed walk to keep up.
“You can’t buy me a dress.”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, gaze traveling down my body. “You can’t wear your own.”
I cross my arms over my chest, hiding my hands from the cold wind. “How do you know I don’t have an appropriate dress at home?”
He casts an incredulous look in my direction. “Do you have something appropriate for an elegant soiree?”
I don’t want to admit it, but I can’t lie. My closet isn’t exactly lined with Louis Vuitton or whatever designer is hot right now. I don’t even know. I hold my head up, refusing to think there’s anything wrong with the fact that I don’t own fancy things—most people don’t—and say, “No.”
“Then I’m buying you a dress.”
“Let me get this straight. In exchange for ruining your clothes with my out-of-control dogs, you’re going to buy me a dress and take me to a party?”
“Yes,” he says, as cool and collected as ever.
“Okay… well… as long as we’re clear.”
I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Finley while we walk, making sure she knows this isn’t optional. Once that’s done, I slip my phone back into my coat pocket and rush to keep up with the man’s wide strides.
The people passing by give us a wide girth, as if they can sense something about this man that demands extra respect and space. I feel it too. The urge to move away from him, mixed with a desire to move closer. Very close.
This is probably a horrible idea. I know nothing about him. He could be a serial killer for all I know. Although, he doesn’t look like a murderer. He looks respectable. But isn’t that how they get you?
He glances at me, and I realize I’ve been staring. It’s hard not to.
“What’s your name?” He asks.
Somewhere in the confusion and shuffle of the past few minutes, I completely forgot to introduce myself. “Sorry. I’m Jeslyn.”
I’m not sure why I gave him my full name. Must people just call me Jess. That’s usually how I introduce myself. But when his eyes met mine, he somehow pulled the completeness of me from my lips.
He turns his head back to the sidewalk in front of us, stopping at the crosswalk to wait for the light to turn. “Do you know what it means?”
“He sees,” I answer. “Or something like that.”
“Mhmm.” The look he gives me is full of a hunger that makes my thighs clench and my nipples pearl. It’s like he’s seeing me in a way no one has before. “In French, it means blessed with wealth and beauty.”
An awkward snort pops out of me. “Someone didn’t get the message.”
His eyes flash and his nostrils flair. Holding the dogs with one hand, he grips my shoulder and turns me to look at him. “The name suits you, Jeslyn.”
