Jemima nods and takes a sip of her drink.
“Yes, Melissa mentioned that. She said they’re normally held in the summer for all members, but that you requested a special one just for you? You must be a very influential member of Sanctum to be able to pull that off.”
I laugh and take another sip of my drink, enjoying this woman’s company as the warm bourbon slowly slides down my throat. “Yeah, the hunt is usually a group event, but that wasn’t the only thing that set my hunt apart.”
Jemima blinks.
“Oh really? What else made it different?”
I nod.
“Well, normally the hunt doesn’t actually include virgins. I mean, it’s called “The Virgin Hunt” but that’s just because it’s a catchy name. I mean, we’re living in the twenty-first century, so it’s nearly impossible to find virginal women in this day and age without breaking the law. But I paid Sanctum a pretty penny to ensure that every woman at my event was a virgin.”
Jemima smiles and a bit of color drains from her cheeks, but then she straightens her shoulders. She’s about to say something when Chris the bartender glides over.
“Mr. Cathcart, Miss Kay, can I get either of you something to eat?”
“I’m starving,” Jemima says quickly. “Do you mind if I order?”
“Not at all,” I growl. “Get yourself anything you like.”
“Oh okay,” she murmurs, staring at a menu. “How about steak and potatoes?” She turns to me with an apologetic look. “I know most ladies don’t eat like this on dates, but I’m ravenous and it sounds delicious.”
“Go right ahead, sweetheart. Eat to your heart’s delight. In fact, I’ll have the same.”
Chris nods and disappears again, leaving us in silence for a moment. Jemima sips her martini before turning to me with a tentative smile. “As you can tell, I have a pretty big appetite.”
I shrug.
“You don’t have to worry about that with me. I adore your curves, obviously, from the way I took you during the hunt. They provide just the right amount of padding for a man’s hard pounding.”
She blushes at the vulgar words but smiles shyly. “I was surprised you chose me, to be honest, because the other women were so gorgeous.”
I shrug.
“Yeah, but quite a few of them were too skinny and I don’t love skin and bones. I’ll have to talk with Melissa about that. But honey, you’re the whole package: sweet, fleet-footed, and irresistible.”
“Now I know you’re teasing me,” Jemima says with a laugh. “Fleet-footed? You caught me first because I’m the exact opposite. I’m a total slow-poke and I can’t run worth salt. I don’t really work out much … if at all,” she confesses.
But I merely shrug again.
“Like I said, you stood out in the crowd, honey. I had my eye on you before the hunt started because I was actually watching you guys from behind a thicket of trees before the chase began,” I wink. “I saw you take off your lingerie and was entranced by this,” I say, tapping a swollen nipple through the fabric of her dress, “and this,” I add, gently resting a big hand on her knee. I prevent myself from sliding it up her thigh, although her legs do part, emitting a sweet heat that has me stiffening once more.
But she giggles then.
“Wow, I had no idea, Mr. Cathcart. So you were scoping out the goods, hmm?”
I grin, patting her knee.
“I was.”
At that moment, the bartender returns with two plates heaping with steak and mashed potatoes. The aromas are mouth-watering, and a few people look over to see what we’re eating.
“This looks amazing,” Jemima breathes as her knife slides easily through the medium-rare steak. She takes a bite and her eyes roll up with delight, showing the whites. “Oh my God, it tastes even better than it looks.”
I nod, sampling my dish as well.
“Sanctum only hires the best. I know we have a Michelin starred restaurant in the compound, although I’m not sure if the bar food comes out of the same kitchen.”
“It doesn’t matter because this is the best food I’ve had in New York, hands down.”
I grunt.
“Then you haven’t had good New York pizza yet.”
Jemima giggles. “That’s not true!” she protests. “I’ve had some very good thin crust that makes my mouth water. There’s a place right next to my hotel that I’ve sampled a couple times already, although I don’t know where to find the best.”
“I’ll show you. There are some places in Brooklyn that will knock your socks off sweetheart. They have those huge clay furnaces that never cool down, really. Even when they turn out the lights at night, those things are still going at seven hundred degrees.”
She gasps.
“That’s not against the law?”
I shake my head.
“Evidently not. You just can’t cool those things down enough on their own, and when you come back the next morning, they’re basically still hot. So what can a pizzaiola do?”