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“That’s not…I have to focus on the Z-Box account. This is hardly what I need right now,” she objected.
“Well, he’s a guy.”
“Oh, I noticed.”
“Then,” her sister said, beaming as if she’d just come up with some Einstein-level formula, “maybe he’s what you need. You go out, and maybe you start dating. You get that handle on the guy’s perspective for marketing, and done, you know?”
“Or you just want to move me around like a chess piece or your own personal Barbie so that I can see a guy I barely know again,” she said, hoping her sister hadn’t seen her out on the dance floor. To be fair, she knew some very personal things about Bahan, like how amazing it felt to have his erection rub against her thigh or how the masculine scent of him made heat flare in her belly. “Besides, what kind of a hostess would I be if I went out tonight or tomorrow and left you here? You already have to do so much on your own because of my job’s crazy hours.”
“Nuh-uh,” Sydney chirped. “You are not using me as an excuse to avoid a guy who might actually be good fo
r you.”
“I think I resent that remark. I do date.”
“Not since the breakup, not really,” Sydney pointed out. “I’m sick a lot. It’s part of my life. But I’m feeling better, really. Besides, Rose already offered to watch me if you did go out. She told me so.”
“I bet Rose did,” Jennifer said, mulling everything over. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her secretary. It was more that she didn’t trust the combined enthusiasm of Rose and Sydney together to not burn her apartment down. “I…”
Her sister shocked her by shoving Jennifer’s cell phone at her. “Just call.”
“Did you rifle through my purse?”
Sydney snorted. “Oh please, like that’s the first time I’ve ever done that. Just call.”
***
“This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy,” she said under her breath as she waited outside of Luigi’s off Sixth.
She wasn’t even dressed the same way as last night. She’d picked out a plain black shift, something functional and actually long enough. Jennifer also had adorned herself with her favorite necklace. It was a diamond lavalier (albeit a small chip), something she’d gotten for herself as a treat for her first real promotion at her company. Still, the outfit was more serious, reflected who she really was. It wasn’t the siren-in-red look that she’d sported last night. It was unlikely that Bahan would even recognize her. Besides, maybe he had been feeding her lines last night. He wouldn’t be the first guy at a club to tell her about his great wealth or something ridiculous like that. Maybe his “emporiums” were, at best, strip malls in Jersey.
It was just so insane. She knew better than anyone else, after her dad and then her breakup, how easy it was for guys to mislead.
Then a limo pulled up and Bahan stepped out.
He’d been attractive under the strobe lights at the club, but under the streetlamps, she could see more and really appreciate how the silk of his shirt clung to the massive muscles of his biceps as well as his chiseled chest. Then there was the sheen to his dark hair, and the fact that in the right light his eyes seemed to shine like amber, the color so rich and gorgeous. Bahan was every bit the prince charming that her sister was pushing him to be. At least, he had the looks, the money, and even the limo.
She knew better than to trust appearances. After all, once upon a time, her dad had probably swept her mom off her feet too.
“Jennifer, my Goldilocks, you look lovely as ever. I do enjoy that necklace of yours,” he said, coming over to her and crooking out his elbow. “I would be the envy of every man at the restaurant tonight.”
“Would?” she asked as they stepped through the door.
Then she whistled. Except for the staff, they were the only people in the restaurant. She’d never seen a place so deliberately cleared out before, but there were acres of empty tables, not even set, except for the bouquets of roses placed atop them. The only table that was set contained an ornate silver candelabra, its dim light flickering for them both.
He tilted his head toward the table. “Yes, exactly. I didn’t want to talk over a din. We did that last night, and I wanted to get to know you better. I feel that there are only certain ways you get to know a woman in a club.”
She felt her cheeks flare as she thought over her behavior. Her own frustration and maybe a few too many Jim Beams had made her looser than she usually was. But that damage was done. She was used to the feel of his hands sweeping over her, to being close enough to smell his maleness as well as the spicy scent of turmeric that seemed to linger on him. She loved that tease of his hardness against her. But yes, they’d gotten to know each other just in one way at the club. They had so much more to do.
He swept up beside her and pulled the chair out. It was probably those Oxford manners of his. It was rare to get that in New York. Either you ended up with some guy from Wall Street who was nothing more than a rampant narcissist who wouldn’t deign to move a chair, or someone from Jersey who wouldn’t know good manners if they hit him upside the face.
Bahan smiled as he took his own seat. “What?”
“I’m not used to having the ladylike treatment. It’s so rare here.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about all that hustle and bustle New Yorkers are famous for. I’m just thankful I don’t have to deal with the teaming masses on the subway or even waving for a cab. I think you Americans are just too aggressive.”
“What are the ‘teaming masses’ like then in Yemen?” she asked, even as she dug into some of the breadsticks in the basket set before them. “I think everyone is busy going out to a job or in the morning commute, however it looks. Wait, would there be camels involved there?” she asked, realizing soon after how dumb that must have sounded.
