The server topped off their glasses, but neither of them noticed. “And then?” Louise prompted.
“Then, we might dance a little, so you’d grow used to the way I held you. And I to the way you want to be held.”
“I’d love to dance with you.” She set her glass down.
He rose, took her hand. On the way to the dance floor they passed a shadowy booth where a couple ignored their own bottle of champagne and kissed passionately.
He turned, slid his arms around Louise. Fit her body to his with the easy skill of a man who knew, perfectly, how a woman fit against a man. There was a delicacy about her that stirred him. A directness that aroused and appealed.
In the cab that morning, she had handed him a card and suggested he call her sometime—when he wasn’t working.
Very direct, he thought again as he drew in the scent of her hair. Very clear. She was attracted, interested. But not as a client.
He’d been attracted, interested, and had suggested they have drinks that same evening.
“Louise?”
“Mmm.”
“I wasn’t free tonight. I broke an engagement to be here.”
She tipped back her head. “So did I.” She laid her head on his shoulder again. “I like the way you hold me.”
“I felt something as soon as I saw you this morning.”
“I know.” She relaxed, drifted on the music. On the moment. “I don’t have time for a relationship. They’re so messy and take so much effort. I’m selfish, Charles, about my work and often, very often, resent anything that gets in the way of it.”
Her fingers trailed into his hair. “But I felt something, too. I think I could make time to find out what it’s about.”
“I haven’t had much luck with relationships. My work usually gets in the way.” He turned his face into her hair, breathed in the scent. “I’d like to take time to find out.”
“Tell me.” She brushed her cheek against his. Smooth, she thought, with just enough friction to make her skin shiver. “If I were a client, what would we do after we dance?”
“Depending on what you wanted, we might go upstairs, to the suite I’d have reserved. I’d undress you.” He skimmed his palm over the warm, bare skin of her back. “Slowly. I’d tell you how beautiful you are as I took you to bed. How your skin’s like silk. I’d show you how much I want you as I made love to you.”
“Maybe next time.” She drew away, just a little, so she could look at him. “And it sounds nearly perfect. But if the next time comes, Charles, we’ll take each other to bed. And I’ll make love with you.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “It doesn’t matter to you, what I do?”
“Why should it?” She had to rise on her toes to touch her mouth to his, and left it at merely a whisper. “Anymore than it should matter to you what I do. Excuse me a minute? I want to freshen up.”
She walked to the women’s lounge and when she was sure she was out of sight, pressed a hand to her jittery stomach. She’d never had a reaction like this to a man.
To want a man, of course. To enjoy his company, to feel desire and interest and humor, affection. But never all at once, never so much of all on such short acquaintance.
She needed a minute to settle down.
She stepped inside the opulent lounge, moved directly to one of the deeply cushioned chairs in front of its individual triple mirror.
She took out her compact, then simply sat, staring at her own reflection. She’d said no more than the truth. She didn’t have time for a relationship. Particularly one that was bound to be intense and complex and complicated. She had so much she wanted to accomplish.
It was one thing to socialize now and then. A date, a party. Particularly if she could use the time to garner interest in the clinic, or the abuse shelter, or the expansion of the free med-van units she was working on.
But a relationship with Charles would be pure indulgence.
She’d had no idea how much she’d want to indulge.
She opened and closed her compact a few times, then began to powder her nose while lecturing herself to be a grown-up. As she fussed with her hair, a long, slim brunette in a clingy black gown came out of the stall area.