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“Okay,” his curiosity is piqued.
“Last night-” He cuts me off before I can finish.
“Last night was amazing.” He pulls me into an intimate embrace.
“Yes, it was. But . . . no . . . I-” He cuts me off again by covering my lips with his. Gah! I want this, but not right this second. I need to speak. I push on his chest, but he doesn’t budge. He’s like a brick wall. He takes my ponytail and tugs gently. A moan escapes from deep down in my throat. I’m being betrayed by my
body again!
He releases me smiling. “You were saying?”
“Um . . . I was saying . . . I . . .” I need to take a deep breath and compose myself. My wits are frazzled. “I have never gone home with someone on the first date.”
He gazes down at me, his hands cupping my face. “I couldn’t help myself. There is this pull I feel any time I’m near you. You’re impossible to resist.”
Impossible to resist? Me?
“And I don’t do one night stands,” I state.
“Who said anything about one night?”
There is a knock at the door. Chase releases me smiling that enigmatic smile. “That would be our clothing.” He opens the door, and a gentleman in a suit is standing at the door holding several garment bags. Chase motions for him to enter. “Thank you for being so quick.”
“Not a problem, Mr. Remington.” Stepping in, the courier places the garment bags over the dining room chairs. Chase unzips one of the bags, nods, and shows the gentleman in the suit the door.
He hands me two bags. “I took the liberty of explaining you to Cheryl so I have no idea what’s in these bags.” He gives me an apologetic smile.
Even though I know this is over the top, I’m thankful that I won’t have to walk around in a gown and high heels. I take the bags and go into the bedroom.
Opening the first long garment bag, I find a pair of jeans and a Point d’esprit lace tee both by Valentino. In the smaller shopping bag, I find a pair of lace panties with a matching bra, and a pair of black crystal encrusted Valentino thong sandals. Wow. If I had gone shopping, I would have chosen something like this; although it would have been from the Gap, not from Bergdorf. Cheryl is good.
Dressing quickly, I grab my purse and walk into the bathroom to try to do something with my wayward hair. The humidity from last night along with the hot shower put a wave in my blown out straight hair. I need a flat iron or blow dryer to restraighten it. I find a blow dryer, but looking at my hair in the mirror, I realize it’s too far gone to fix. There isn’t anything I can do about it now, so I gather it in my hands and place it back in a ponytail. I walk back out into the living area to find Chase missing. I can hear the shower running in the other bathroom. Other bathroom? I sit down and relax, letting the Motrin do its job. I put my head down on the arm of the couch and doze off.
I open my eyes to see Chase standing in front of me, his hair all tousled and sexy. He is gazing down at me smiling. He has on a Ralph Lauren Pique polo shirt with a pair of Burberry Brit jeans, and a pair of brown Gucci brown leather flip-flops. He looks like he just stepped off a runway. He sits down next to me, his fingers stroking my cheek.
“Tired?”
“A little, it was an eventful evening.”
“Yes, it was,” he concurs. “I would like it to be an eventful morning as well. Come.” He stands and offers me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up into his arms kissing me. He catches me off guard, and once I realize I’m being kissed, it’s over.
“Since Harry Cipriani isn’t open for breakfast, we’re going out to eat,” he says. “How is your headache?” he asks concerned.
“Better, thank you.”
“Good, because we’re going for a walk.” He leads me out the door and into the hallway. We walk over to the bank of elevators, and Chase presses the down button. Almost immediately, the elevator doors on the right hand side open, and a gentleman dressed in a beige jacket and black vest ushers us in.
“What floor sir?” he asks.
“Lobby.” The elevator attendant smiles and presses the button for the lobby.
The elevator doors open, Chase grabs my hand, and leads me out through the lobby to the revolving doors. “Ladies first,” he waves toward the door. Once through, he grabs my hand again, and we proceed to walk west up 59th Street. He stops between Fifth Avenue and Sixth Avenue to a little restaurant called Sarabeth’s, which is located directly across the park. There is a hostess stand outside since it is such a beautifully warm Sunday morning. “How many?” she asks.
“I have reservations for two for an outside table under the name Remington.”
“Yes, I see. Right this way,” she says pleasantly. We follow her to a table along an X shaped decorative fence separating us from the pedestrians walking along the sidewalk. The hostess hands us both menus. “Enjoy your brunch.”
I open my menu to a plethora of choices. I realize now I’m starving, and there are way too many choices on this menu. Chase hasn’t even opened his.
