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Darren was hooting and whistling. Wayne was clapping enthusiastically and even Cindy was grinning.
Sophie blinked up at Henry. “Who are you?”
His dark eyes bore into her. “A man who enjoys dancing with you.”
She shook her head at his mystery. He could cut the price of a luxury New York City apartment in half with a word to the leasing agent and wore Hugo Boss and Ferragamo casually. Maybe he hadn’t been propositioning her. Maybe he had offered her all that money for private lessons because money was no object to him. A trivial thing to get in the
way of what he wanted. She lowered her leg, moving to step away from him, but he tightened his arm around her waist slightly as she did so.
“Wait.”
She paused, raising her brows. “Yes?”
“Reconsider the lessons.” His voice was low but fervent.
She’d known he was going to ask again, the minute he’d made a dance the condition of his generosity. Then, she was going to renew her refusal. But now? With the hum of the dance in her veins, and the zing of triumph in her heart? Was she really willing to give up the chance for another dance like today’s out of fear that she might fall?
“No,” she said, the word out of her mouth before she’d realized she was forming it. A shutter fell over Henry’s eyes. What the hell am I doing, she thought. “I mean yes.” Her stomach flipped. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
His expression turned. “Thank you,” he said. He looked up to Darren and Wayne. “Let’s get your lease sorted, shall we?”
Was he just a generous man, happy to help Darren and Wayne, or just a ruthless negotiator? Sophie watched him as they walked back to their recent audience. Either way, she was going to find out.
Chapter Six
Sophie stared up at the apartment building in shock. She checked the address Henry had given her for a third time. Just like the last two times, it matched. West 56th Street. The massive grey stone and glass building rose an impressive seventy-five stories into the air. And, according to the directions he’d given her, Henry’s apartment was at the very top. The top three floors, to be exact. The penthouse.
He didn’t just have money. Henry Medina was money. She wondered again what he did for a living. Darren had urged her to Google the sultry businessman, but Sophie found that somehow seedy and dishonest. Whatever happened to learning about someone for yourself? Still, looking up at the imposing structure, she did wish she’d had some advance knowledge of what to expect.
She felt suddenly frumpy in her soft, stretchy black yoga pants and a loose, white V-neck t-shirt. She’d considered wearing one of the many kicky hemmed, flirty skirts that languished in the back of her closet, like the one she’d worn to apartment hunt. But that had been a rare instance, and she didn’t want to give Henry the wrong idea. Her only concession to typical dance attire was the black heels strapped to her feet. Dancing with Henry, alone, in his apartment could lead to who knows what. Especially given the sexual tension that arose between them each time they danced.
She hoped her outfit sent the message that she was not at all interested in doing anything other than dancing with him. Really hoped. Because if it came down to it, Sophie was pretty sure she wouldn’t actually be able to voice those words. Her body wouldn’t let her. She wasn’t even in the stupid building yet and already her nipples had tightened into sensitive points and her blood was beginning to heat. Just at the thought of being in his arms again.
Sophie took a deep, slow breath and forced her feet toward the building’s wide, glass front doors. A doorman stepped up to open them for her, and she blinked at him in surprise. She didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to her outfit and the skin around his mouth tightened fractionally. She plastered on a smile and nodded in thanks, ducking quickly inside.
The lobby was cool and quiet, the sound of her high heels on the marble floor loud. She glanced around, self-conscious, but she was alone. She hurried toward the elevator, clutching the code that Henry had given her.
“You have to hit the button for seventy-five, and then enter the code quickly, or it will lock you out. If that happens, just call my cell.”
She tucked a stray hair back into her ponytail, and studied the button panel. The floor buttons for seventy-three to seventy-five were separate from the others, and beside them was a smaller keypad that looked like a more hi-tech version of the one the alarm company had installed in her place. Sophie pressed the “75”, which made the keypad chime and light up red. She hastily entered the seven digit code, which she’d been so nervous about losing that she’d actually memorized it.
The keypad went green and the elevator doors slid closed. She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the metal box’s rich wood paneled walls. Her hands trembled. She flexed them, smoothing the t-shirt over her belly. The muscles there twitched.
Sophie closed her eyes, hoping to calm her nerves—and hormones. But the minute she did, the darkness behind her lids filled with images of Henry Medina tugging her shirt over her head.
She snapped her eyes open, staring instead at the electronic panel that ticked off the floor numbers in amber. She focused on the classical music straining softly out of the speakers and forced her shoulders to relax. Though she barely felt movement, the numbers flipped quickly by on the display. There was a faint click and hum as it switched from seventy-two to seventy-three and continued upward.
The elevator drew to such a smooth stop at seventy-five that Sophie didn’t even sway. The doors glided soundlessly open. Henry was waiting for her. All the calm she’d managed to gather about her on the elevator ride fled, along with her breath, at the sight of the man. And the apartment behind him. He was dressed in charcoal grey slacks and a white button-down that was open at the throat, revealing a dusting of dark, wiry hair on his chest. His normally immaculate hair was slightly rumpled, as if he’d been running his hands through it.
“Sophie. I’m glad you came.”
She nodded, looking past him to the penthouse beyond as she stepped out of the elevator. To her left was what could best be described as a gallery, the muted gold of the walls adorned with what looked like very expensive artwork. Given where she was, she had no doubt that’s exactly what it was.
Henry motioned her to the right, toward a sliding glass door that led out onto a terrace, and a truly amazing view of the city. She could see all the way to the river and the lights of the boats there as the evening dimmed. “Henry, my goodness. It’s lovely.”
“It’s one of my favorite things about this apartment.” His smile was deep as he looked out over the New York skyline. She could see the genuine admiration shining in his ebony eyes as he looked out at the city.
“I can see why.” Views like this, with all the lights glittering like stars below them, were partially responsible for making Sophie fall in love with New York City.
