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“I don’t drink.”
He grinned. “Then have a talk with me.”
She bit down on her lip. “But… why?” Surely someone like him could have his choice of sophisticated women.
“Because I have been watching you all night and I am intrigued.”
Jane’s laugh was shaky. “Intrigued? By me?”
“Absolutely by you.” He lifted a hand and lightly cupped her hip. “Why does this surprise you?”
Jane’s eyes widened. “Because you’re… errr… very…” She squeezed her eyes shut, agonized by her gauche immaturity. “You don’t look like someone who would be intrigued by me.”
He shook his head. “You’re wrong. Let me spend time with you when you finish. Please.” It was the please that did it. The juxtaposition of his confidence bordering on arrogance, with the obvious fact that he felt strongly enough to plead with her.
“Okay.” She nodded, her heart bursting in her chest as she heard herself agree. “Just a drink.”
“I thought you didn’t drink?”
She shrugged, and flashed a small smile at him. “I also don’t agree to go on late night dates with men from the bar. I guess people can change.”
The waiting was excruciating. As the restaurant slowly emptied, and she and the three other staff returned it to its usual state of order, she was conscious of his eyes on her. Her hip seemed to burn from the brief contact they’d shared. And she wanted to tell her boss that she wasn’t feeling well, just so that she could speak to him again.
Finally, the manager of the restaurant gave her a nod. “Off you go, Janey. Thanks for tonight.” He handed her an envelope of her tips, which she folded into her back pocket, as she simultaneously looped her handbag off the staff rack.
Her heart was pounding as she crossed to where the man was sitting. His companions had left. He was alone. Focussed alternately on her, and a newspaper.
As she approached, he scraped back his chair. “You are finished?”
She nodded, her mouth too dry to form words.
“Good. Come with me.” He put a hand in the small of her back and gently propelled her into the cold night air. She shivered, and he shrugged out of his coat. “You do not wear a jacket?”
“I forgot it,” she lied. She’d lost it, and couldn’t afford another. She still had a month or so before winter truly set into the capital. She was waiting as long as she could before purchasing another.
“Silly,” he said quietly, as his broad, strong hands wrapped his own fine woollen coat around her slender frame. He stopped walking, and put his hands on her shoulder. Gently, he buttoned her up, taking such great care that Jane gasped.
“What is your name?” He asked, his dark eyes probing hers. He knew it, of course, but it seemed liked the right thing to say.
“Jane Lang.”
“Jane Lang?” He smiled, and it transformed his whole face. She was the girl he’d been looking for. It was all the confirmation he needed. “You sound like a superhero.” He’d thought it the first time he’d discovered her name. Jane Lang.
She wiggled her brows. “How do you know I’m not?”
He put a finger beneath her chin, so that he could hold her face still and examine her beauty in detail. “I don’t,” he agreed finally. “But I’m looking forward to finding out.”
When he removed his hand, she felt cold all over. Until he put an arm around her waist and pulled her against his frame.
“Aren’t you cold?” She asked, after they’d walked to the next street corner in silence.
“No.” He turned the corner, pulling her with him. “Here we are.”
He paused outside an enormous Victorian townhouse, on the edge of a private square.
“You live here?”
