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“Right. But thank you. Thank you for agreeing that anything that happens between us won’t end up in your article.”
“I wouldn’t do that anyway, Hunter. I’m as private as you are with regard to my sex life.”
“Good. Then we have a genuine understanding between us.”
Before she can reply, the server returns. “Have you decided?”
“Yes.” Frankie shuts her menu. “I will have that amazing wagyu ribeye, medium rare, and a house salad with balsamic vinaigrette.”
“Excellent. And for you, sir?”
“House salad with ranch, and the prime rib, medium rare, with a baked potato and asparagus.”
“Very good. Can I refresh your drinks?”
Frankie and I have been talking so much, we’ve hardly touched our drinks. “Looks like we’re good for now,” I tell him.
“And would you like to order any wine with dinner?”
I eye the wine list. “I think our red meat orders would pair well with one of your most robust cabs.”
“Excellent. May I recommend the Jordan?”
“You may. Two glasses, please.”
“Very good. I’ll get everything started.”
Then I smile across the table at Frankie.
This will be a memorable evening. One way or another.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Frankie
“I’d like to take you home with me,” Hunter says.
I try to conceal my surprise, but I fear I’m not very successful.
“Don’t look so surprised.”
“I just figured. You know. The club.”
“I don’t go to the club without my cape and mask,” he says.
“So you weren’t hoping we’d end up there tonight?”
“I’d very much like to take you there, but we have plans for that tomorrow. I’d like to take you home. To my place.”
“When’s the last time you had a woman at your place?” I can’t help asking.
“It’s been a long time, Frankie.”
“Was it Teresa?”
“Yes.” His gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “I don’t want there to be secrets between us. I’ve already divulged a huge one to you.”
“Then I’d be honored.” I wince. “I mean… That didn’t come out right at all.”
“I understand what you mean. You’re saying you’d like to come with me.”
“I would.”
“I want you to know,” he says, “that just because we’re not inside the club doesn’t mean your safety isn’t guaranteed at all times. I would never let anything happen to you, and we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Hunter, I appreciate the sentiment.” I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “I do. But you’re taking the romance out of it.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to do romance.”
“You keep saying that, but you read all the classics. You know what love is. You know what love is supposed to feel like between two people. In The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby would do anything to be with his love, even though she wasn’t available. I know you understand the concept.”
He doesn’t reply.
I hope I haven’t upset him, and I open my mouth to apologize, but then I shut it.
There was nothing wrong with what I said. I don’t want to lose whatever is budding between Hunter and me, but I also can’t let everything slide. I’m not Mandy. I’m not an introvert. I wouldn’t call myself an extrovert, either, but I’m going to lay my cards on the table. I’m going to say what I want to say.
He’s still silent.
“I’d like to go with you, Hunter. If it’s what you want.”
He clears his throat. “It is what I want. I’d like to show you a little more of myself, Frankie. I’d like to show you my home. Maybe tell you a little bit more about myself. About my work.”
“I’d like that very much.”
The server comes with the check and sets it down in front of Hunter. This is an expensive place, and I make pretty good money.
“Let me help with that,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. When I take a lady out, I pay.”
Those words from another man might sound chauvinistic, but I don’t get that feeling from Hunter at all. He’s simply being a gentleman.
A gentleman and an amazing person. I wish he hadn’t held his emotions at bay for so long.
I smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your generosity. I enjoyed the dinner very much.”
“I did too.” He returns my smile. “But I enjoyed the company even more.”
We leave the restaurant and hail a cab.
“I hope you don’t mind taking a cab. I don’t own a car.”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “I don’t, either. Who could afford to, here in the city?”
Traffic is a mess, but we finally make it to Hunter’s brownstone. It’s a quaint building, all red brick, and while I’m used to a doorman, the brownstone has an old-fashioned key and no intercom.
He opens the door to the front, and then he leads me up the stairwell to his apartment. “There are two apartments up here,” he says. “Mine is the smaller, but it’s perfect for me. Two bedrooms, one of which I use as an office. A tiny kitchen, but I’m not the best cook in the world, so I eat sandwiches, mostly, with the occasional takeout.” He unlocks the door. “Here it is.”
