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He stepped up to me and took my hand, kissing it briefly, then holding it while I crawled into the limo. I felt really self-conscious on the ride over. I was wearing a thrift store dress, and he had on a suit worth more than everything in my apartment combined.
“Where are we going?” I tried to break the silence to quiet my thoughts.
“You’ll like it.”
“You have to tell me though.”
“I am afraid that I don’t. I won so I set the terms.”
The limo pulled to a stop outside of the tallest building in town, the Lane Tower. If he is THAT Lane, then he is even richer than I thought.
Marshall stepped out first and then offered me his hand as I exited.
“Is there a restaurant up there or something?” I said, squinting at the building.
“Or something.”
“Are they going to care that we’re showing up this late?”
“They will. I own the building, so they naturally will take care of us.”
I rolled my eyes to the night sky.
“I should have known you were going to say that.”
I was going into that thing—debt fulfillment, bet payoff, date, whatever you wanted to call it—determined not to be impressed. But once we got on the roof, a perfect warm breeze hit me. The cityscape looked gorgeous, glowing with merry light, and the stars overhead shone down with glittering brilliance. I didn’t feel tired anymore, it felt as if the breeze lifted me up in the air and filled me with glow.
Damn, it was a perfect night for romance. I was starting to think I was in a whole lot of trouble. The question was, did I want to get out of it or not?
There was a single table set, with a vase and a discreet rose. A string quartet started up a slow, romantic tune, and a man in a professional chef’s uniform, hat and all, prepared food on a searing grill.
This was definitely no restaurant, just a roof, and I have no idea how he managed to organize all of this.
The smells made my mouth water. A sommelier stepped up to the table and started asking me about my taste in wine. I had no idea how to answer, but they never made me feel stupid for my ignorance. They suggested that the dry white would pair well with the rib tips we were to enjoy.
“Okay,” I said as I set my fork down and dabbed at my mouth, carefully not to smudge my gloss. “I’ll admit, Marshall. I’m impressed.”
He smiled with the corner of his mouth and nodded to someone behind my back. The music stopped and a couple of waiters began to clear the table.
I turned slightly and a crick in my neck that had been cropping up made me wince. As the servants discreetly packed up and moved off the roof, he rose from his seat.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he stepped behind me.
“Relax, Jennifer.” His hands felt like magic, working out the knots of tension. His fingers were so strong, but so careful. My head lolled back as he worked on me.
“Oh god, that feels nice,” I gasped. “Just a little to the left, would you?”
“Here?” He moved his fingers, and I let out a grunt as something shifted in my neck. The crick was gone and I sagged with relief.
“Yes, that’s perfect.”
His hands didn’t stop working. Goosebumps rose on my skin as he worked his way out to my shoulders. His fingers kneaded the muscle between the deltoid and neck, and I couldn’t help a gasp from escaping my mouth.
“Jennifer…” my name was a throaty, one-word poem whispered in my ear. Then his lips touched the base of my neck. “Here?”
I shivered as a hard throb formed between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together and felt my heart beat faster. I could have told him no. I didn’t.
“Yes,” I said, my voice sounding eager, but maybe just a little unsure on another level.
