Definitely time to change the subject.
I pick up my menu. “So what looks good?”
“Not raw beef, that’s for sure. Maybe the scallops.”
“You’re going to pass up Steel beef for scallops?”
“Sue me. I love seafood.” She licks her lips. “I love delicacies.”
Man, oh man…
“You may have your heart’s desire tonight. It’s all part of—”
“The Brock Steel experience,” she finishes with me.
Fuck me. I’m beginning to crush hard on Rory Pike. Really hard. I can’t wait to get her into bed later tonight.
Chapter Thirteen
Rory
By the time we’re done with dinner, my body is smoldering. The back-and-forth banter has me hotter than I’ve been in a long time. I can barely make it to Brock’s car on my jelly legs.
“Where to now?” I ask.
“I thought maybe a little dancing at the Plaza.”
I must drop my jaw, because he lifts my chin, and my lips close.
“Surprised?”
“I figured you’d say something like ‘back to my place, babe.’”
He lets out a laugh.
“You know, the Brock Steel experience and all.”
“I won’t deny that a roll in my bed is a very important part of the Brock Steel experience, but I’m not all about sex, Rory, no matter what you’ve heard.”
Way to make me feel like a heel. Crap. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. Now…about that dancing at the Plaza?”
“There’s a Plaza in Grand Junction?”
“Well, no. It’s the dancing lounge at the Carlton. But it will do.”
“I haven’t been dancing in… I mean, not counting when I dance at the parties at your house.”
“You mean Uncle Talon’s house.”
“Well, yeah. The big Steel ranch house. Why doesn’t your father live there? Isn’t he the oldest?”
“He is, but my grandfather was still alive when my father ventured out on his own. He lived in the guesthouse for a little while, but then he had his own home built. Uncle Talon went off to the military after college, and Aunt Marjorie was still in school. Uncle Ryan moved into the guesthouse after college and stayed there for quite a long time. Until he got married. When Uncle Talon got back from the military, and after our father died, he moved into the main house with Aunt Marjorie while she finished college. Then he just never left, so when he and Aunt Jade got married, they kept the big house because my father already had his own.”
“And your dad was okay with that?”
“Have you seen my dad’s house?”
“No.”
“That’s because all the big parties are at the main house. I’ll show you my dad’s house sometime. You’ll see that he lost nothing by not taking the main house.”
“I see. I guess we got a little off track. But my point is, no. Raine wasn’t a big dancer, so I haven’t been dancing in forever. Except for that little bit I do at your parties, and that’s very little because I’m usually singing with the band.”
“Do I have a treat for you, then. It’s big-band night at the Carlton, so we’re going to do some actual dancing.”
“Actual dancing?”
“Well, I’m no Fred Astaire, but I think we’ll have fun.”
The trip to the Carlton takes only a few minutes. The valet opens the door for me, and Brock hands him the keys and then leads me into the Carlton through the lobby and toward the bar. This hotel is Grand Junction’s finest. Which explains why I’ve never stayed here. In fact, I’ve never been in this bar.
A band is playing. Glenn Miller. The musicians are all tuxedo-clad, a far cry from what Jesse and his bandmates wear when they perform.
Part of me saddens as the tuxedos jar a memory. I met many tuxedoed men during all my auditions. I dressed in the female version of a tuxedo—a cocktail dress—and I sang my heart out for company after company.
I could barely afford the required clothes. Mom and Dad were great about helping me, and I did pay them back. But not with money I made performing, as I originally intended. With money I made teaching.
Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach…
How I hate that adage.
A few couples are on the dance floor, swing dancing.
How does Brock know? How did he know I would enjoy this music?
Ambivalence slides through me. I love anything classical, and though this music doesn’t fit the actual definition of classical music, it is classic in its own way. The big bands of the forties sure knew how to make music.
Yet seeing the musicians dressed as they are… Just too much baggage there.
“Would you like a drink?” Brock asks.
“You know? I didn’t drink at dinner, so I think I would.”
“What would you like?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure. What’s a good after-dinner drink?”
“Irish coffee is always a safe bet. Or any kind of brandy or cognac. Or really… Whatever you want. I don’t stand on ceremony.”
“What are you having?” I ask.
“I’m not an alcohol snob like my dad or Dale. But I do enjoy a nice cognac.”