onto my seat. One by one I tapped off the names listed.
“The botanical gardens.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“The Mansion on Turtle Creek.”
“No.”
“Omni at Park West.”
“No.”
“The Adolphus.”
“No.”
“The Hilton. The Hyatt Regency. Four Seasons.”
“No. No. No.”
My jaw clenched so tightly I felt the burn all the way to my teeth. “None of these places will work?”
Again, “No.”
Why the hell not?
“If you’ll put together a list of places you find suitable—” damn him “—I’ll visit each one and let you know which will work for a party the size you’re planning.” Not that I knew what size party it was going to be with an answer like Maybe fifty, or a hundred or two.
“Then,” I finished, “I’ll put together another list, as well, and we can compare.”
“Sounds good.” He paused and studied me, his eyes blank, giving no hint of his thoughts. “I have a question for you now.”
I almost shuddered. The last time he’d asked me a question in that tone, I’d had to promise to turn other clients away. “Shoot.”
“What’s your home number?”
I frowned. “I keep my business and private life separate. It’s the reason my home number isn’t listed on my card. My cell phone is always turned on during business hours.”
When he remained silent, I added, “There’s no reason for you to have access to my personal line.”
“I disagree. Since I’m paying triple your normalrate, I expect you to be at my beck and call. If I need you to look at a potential location at four in the morning, I want to be able to get a hold of you.”
The only place I could think of that was open at four in the morning and equipped for a party was the all-nude, all-the-time strip club a few streets over. “Very well,” I answered, even though I knew a true Tigress wouldn’t have acquiesced so easily.
Just because I gave in didn’t mean I did it gracefully, though. With jerky movements, I wrote down the required number and shoved the pad and pen at him. “I’ll need your home number as well. Just in case I need to get a hold of you at four in the morning,” I added with a false, bite-me smile.
He didn’t balk as I expected—but then, when did he ever? He grinned as if I’d given him exactly what he wanted and plucked the pen from my hand. His fingertips brushed my knuckles. Slivers of sexual awareness pulsed the length of my arm and sparked electric currents through my veins.
He didn’t seem the least affected by the touch, I noted irritably.
“This is a direct line.” He tore the bottom half of the page from the notebook and handed it to me. “You can reach me without having to go through Ms. Carroll.”
“Who?”
“My assistant.”
Ah, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. I almost French-kissed the number. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He scanned the paper I’dhanded him, nodded and tucked the sheet of paper in his jacket pocket. “Any other details we need to go over right now?”
“No.” Now he would leave, I thought, and wanted to jump and shout with joy. Okay, that was a lie. I still wasn’t ready for him to leave—even though he might have a girlfriend. He was fun to talk to, with a dry sense of humor I enjoyed. Plus, I liked looking at him.
“Good.” He stood, took my hand and tugged me to my feet. “Now that business is over, let’s get something to eat. I’m starved. Do you like Chinese? We can call in an order and have it delivered.”
“Eat?” With Royce? Here? Alone? My stomach growled at the same time an ache throbbed between my legs. A yes from my stomach and a yes from my libido. “No.” From my common sense. We could sit and chat, but a meal provided a sense of intimacy I knew I wasn’t ready for. “No, thank you. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said with a bit more force than necessary.
At least a small part of me recalled my rules.
Royce was so close I feared he might hear the wild rhythm of my
“The botanical gardens.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“The Mansion on Turtle Creek.”
“No.”
“Omni at Park West.”
“No.”
“The Adolphus.”
“No.”
“The Hilton. The Hyatt Regency. Four Seasons.”
“No. No. No.”
My jaw clenched so tightly I felt the burn all the way to my teeth. “None of these places will work?”
Again, “No.”
Why the hell not?
“If you’ll put together a list of places you find suitable—” damn him “—I’ll visit each one and let you know which will work for a party the size you’re planning.” Not that I knew what size party it was going to be with an answer like Maybe fifty, or a hundred or two.
“Then,” I finished, “I’ll put together another list, as well, and we can compare.”
“Sounds good.” He paused and studied me, his eyes blank, giving no hint of his thoughts. “I have a question for you now.”
I almost shuddered. The last time he’d asked me a question in that tone, I’d had to promise to turn other clients away. “Shoot.”
“What’s your home number?”
I frowned. “I keep my business and private life separate. It’s the reason my home number isn’t listed on my card. My cell phone is always turned on during business hours.”
When he remained silent, I added, “There’s no reason for you to have access to my personal line.”
“I disagree. Since I’m paying triple your normalrate, I expect you to be at my beck and call. If I need you to look at a potential location at four in the morning, I want to be able to get a hold of you.”
The only place I could think of that was open at four in the morning and equipped for a party was the all-nude, all-the-time strip club a few streets over. “Very well,” I answered, even though I knew a true Tigress wouldn’t have acquiesced so easily.
Just because I gave in didn’t mean I did it gracefully, though. With jerky movements, I wrote down the required number and shoved the pad and pen at him. “I’ll need your home number as well. Just in case I need to get a hold of you at four in the morning,” I added with a false, bite-me smile.
He didn’t balk as I expected—but then, when did he ever? He grinned as if I’d given him exactly what he wanted and plucked the pen from my hand. His fingertips brushed my knuckles. Slivers of sexual awareness pulsed the length of my arm and sparked electric currents through my veins.
He didn’t seem the least affected by the touch, I noted irritably.
“This is a direct line.” He tore the bottom half of the page from the notebook and handed it to me. “You can reach me without having to go through Ms. Carroll.”
“Who?”
“My assistant.”
Ah, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. I almost French-kissed the number. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He scanned the paper I’dhanded him, nodded and tucked the sheet of paper in his jacket pocket. “Any other details we need to go over right now?”
“No.” Now he would leave, I thought, and wanted to jump and shout with joy. Okay, that was a lie. I still wasn’t ready for him to leave—even though he might have a girlfriend. He was fun to talk to, with a dry sense of humor I enjoyed. Plus, I liked looking at him.
“Good.” He stood, took my hand and tugged me to my feet. “Now that business is over, let’s get something to eat. I’m starved. Do you like Chinese? We can call in an order and have it delivered.”
“Eat?” With Royce? Here? Alone? My stomach growled at the same time an ache throbbed between my legs. A yes from my stomach and a yes from my libido. “No.” From my common sense. We could sit and chat, but a meal provided a sense of intimacy I knew I wasn’t ready for. “No, thank you. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said with a bit more force than necessary.
At least a small part of me recalled my rules.
Royce was so close I feared he might hear the wild rhythm of my
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