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My make-up andhair survived with minimal damage after I got back to my place in Jersey City. However, I spent too much time in the city and found I had enough time to clean up and change into the black lingerie and lace flare skater dress I envisioned for the night.
Gregor approved the use of Arch’s car service, so at least I didn’t have to worry about getting there. Balancing on my four-inch stilettos, I settled down inside of the Lincoln Town Car moments before the driver sped off towards the Holland Tunnel back to Manhattan. I rubbed my hands together to warm myself against the chill as the winter’s night had settled in and darkness had fallen over Jersey City. My apartment was only a short ride to the tunnel through the old brownstones, refurbished factories, and new high-rises. The traffic was mild along the two-lane roadway without much of a delay.
Before I knew it, we were across the Hudson River and heading uptown to 49th and Park. My eyes fogged over as we rode through the bustling streets. The sounds of the horns and music blaring were muted, as they had become so familiar to me now. In my own way, I had grown into a Manhattanite just as much as my roommate. Still, when we arrived at the entrance of the massive stone and bronze illustrious landmark, The Astoria, my mouth dropped open. It was quite the sight.
My heart pounded in my ears as the doorman opened my door. I forced my rigid body through the entrance of the building. During my almost two years in New York, I had never been to this celebrated magnum opus of Art Deco, but here I stood in the infamous Park Avenue lobby. I tried not to gawk as I strolled past the intricate Greco-Roman mosaic sphere in the marble flooring. The ornate moldings, grand crystal chandeliers, and Doric-styled columns interwoven with heavy draperies and potted palms. This place was legendary for its opulence. Idyllically, I entered its universe of wealth.
While I hadn’t gone hungry growing up, we were middle class, at best. After my parents died, I was swiftly relegated to living lower class. My choice of clothing, courtesy of my roommate, afforded me comfort in the affluent environment, and I managed to not stare in awe at the murals, and walk confidently inside the softly lit lounge of Sir Harry’s.
The sleek mahogany bar with porcelain snack bowls dotted along the top took up a prominent portion of the room, and thereby was the first thing I noticed upon entry. Searching for a place to stand or sit, I zeroed in on one of the empty Japanned leather bar stools, and briskly made my way to secure the seat before someone else. With luck, I captured the vacant seat and swiveled around. Eyeing the eclectic mix of patrons, I stared over the high-fashioned starlets, middle-aged tailored gentlemen, and nouveau-riche designer clad tourists and wondered where I fit in.
Not sure, but I patted my back on arriving with ten minutes to spare before Jonas Crane was due to arrive.Jonas!It finally dawned on me I didn’t have a plan for approaching him. Knitting my brows, I tilted my head down and tried to focus on making an impromptu plan. What would be a good opener?Hello, yes. Jonas? Can I call you Jonas? I’m Lily Salomé from Arch Limited, and I’m your publishing house stalker, nice to meet you.
Fidgeting and inward gazing didn’t mix. At least not when holding my satin handbag with sweaty palms. Unfortunately, this realization came too late and my bag took flight, sliding across the floor.
Shit. I had barely made it inside the bar and hadn’t even ordered my first drink or eaten a pistachio nut without embarrassing myself. Straightening my shoulders and ignoring the burning of my cheeks, I lifted my chin and eased over in the direction of my bag, doing my best to pretend I was bored and didn’t care, or that I had maybe even purposely tossed it around. Spotting the bag, my insides winced at the polished leather shoes it had bounced against. I hastened my steps, but paused as a pair of large tanned hands with a golden ring on the left ring finger picked it up.
Gazing up further, I met the most luminous eyes I had ever seen. They were a rare combination of blue and turquoise like a tropical sea. He had black wavy hair that hung a little longer on the top and sides. Some lines around his eyes, but boasted of an otherwise flawless face. With a smooth angular jawline, straight nose, and well-defined cheekbones most women would die for, he was divine. Not to mention, full sensual lips were flashing a perfect set of teeth.
My hand trembled a little as I took my handbag from him, and recognition finally set in. He was not only gorgeous, but he was the man I had come here for, Jonas Crane. Serendipitous or cliché, it didn’t matter. My “accidental on purpose” encounter with him had taken place.
The photos I had seen online didn’t do him justice. Jonas was not only stunning, but magnetic. All eyes in the room gravitated towards him. Who would blame us? He was perfection, from his dark stylish locks to his impeccable suit that fit his frame like it was tailor made for him. His deep blue shirt was pressed and unbuttoned at the collar, exposing a hint of skin, and the thought crossed my mind if his skin would feel as smooth as it looked.
I would guess his height well over six feet, though truly he stood out and above all around him. Perhaps it was the way his presence commanded attention. Whatever, the case prompted me to inadvertently hold out my clammy palm for him to shake, which he took without hesitation.
He held on to my hand as his gaze roamed over me in a slow, deliberate manner. My pulse sped up as I followed its path from head to toe, with a lingering at the embroidery along the top half, the bodice of my dress, that had me shift on my feet. When his eyes met mine again, it was dark and penetrating.
My cheeks were already hot from embarrassment, but that didn’t stop me from ogling him, though I tried my best to stop. “Thank you. Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome, I’m Jonas Crane,” he said, the corner of the right side of his lip raised. My brows rose and my lips parted in an ‘O.’
Jonas squinted. “But I believe you know that.” He had a velvety richness to the tone of his voice that left me wanting to hear more.
I moved to take my hand back, but he held on, awaiting a response from me.
My breath hitched, “I do. Yes. I’m… I’m Lily Salomé. Just Lily, Mr. Crane.” I stammered.
“Jonas, please, Lily. I saw you walk in.” He let go of my hand and chuckled as I wiped my clammy hand on my dress.
My face burned. He saw my grand entrance! “Sorry,” I said softly. His stare was fixed, concentrated on me as if waiting for me to say more, but I had found myself stumped in front of him, only heightening my awkwardness.
Avoiding direct eye contact, I stopped gaping at him and reigned myself in, by stilling my trembling hands that were poised to release my handbag again. My thoughts not releasing me from my clumsy entrance, gawking, and clammy handshake. I managed to blow my opportunity in less than ten minutes! I started to edge away, but to my surprise, Jonas took my elbow and steered me to his side.
“Would you like to share a drink with me, Lily?” Jonas asked, but his act of positioning me at his side answered his question. Truthfully, I didn’t mind, though I found it surprising.
I glanced over at him, and fidgeted. Not knowing how to act or be. Especially when I found his attention steady on me. It was like being under a magnifying glass. Every part of my body lit and tempted by him.
“Do I make you nervous?” Jonas asked another question, and this time I answered.
“Yes, you do actually.” My blunt answer earned me another flash of his gorgeous smile and gave me the impression he was aware of the affect he had on me. As striking as he was, it was likely a common occurrence.
“So what can I do to make you less nervous?” Jonas stepped close and I fought to get my pulse under control.
Not that. I shrugged and grinned. “I have no idea.”
His gaze dropped to my lips, and I found myself leaning a little closer to him. What was I doing?
