by Strong, Mimi
At fancy places, I always over-tip—to prove a point, I guess. Funny how we all have our insecurities. I'm nearly as generous with the nice waiters who don't judge.
Luthor Thorne was already seated at the table, waiting for me. He looked up at me and his expression completely changed, with a decade melting away in an instant. I'd never realized how young he looked when he smiled. As I nearly tripped over my dumb feet—completely out of their league in my new, ultra-high heels—I knew I wanted to keep that smile on his face, no matter what.
He stood and kissed me on both cheeks.
Some other people in the restaurant turned to stare. I felt like Cinderella.
I got into my seat and the waiter pushed my chair in, to my surprise. Luthor laughed at my little squeal.
Once we were on our own with the menus, I said, “How was Denmark?”
“Flat and full of Danes, who speak English as well as you and I. Everyone rides bicycles.”
My smile was so big, it was hard to speak clearly. “Sounds lovely.”
“I'll take you with me next time.” He gave me a wink.
I didn't answer, but took a sip of my ice water. The water had a funny taste, because of the cucumber slices floating in it.
“I know,” Luthor said, noting my reaction. “Cucumber. What's next?”
I'd been wrinkling my nose at the water. I stopped making the face and took another sip, not wanting to appear fussy.
Luthor continued, “Slices of turnip.”
I had to laugh at that. “Beets, maybe, to color it pink?” I looked around at the interior of the restaurant, spotting a piece of art that looked familiar.
He turned and followed my gaze. “That's a reproduction. I have the original.”
I grinned. “In your bedroom. I remember.”
He pulled the slices of cucumber out of his water and tossed them on top of my ice water.
I pulled them out and ate them. “Don't play with your food,” I said.
His face got all serious, his eyes hungry. “You look good.” He swallowed, his Adam's apple moving up and down. “I missed you.”
I whispered, “I missed you, too.”
The waiter appeared, like a splash of cold water on the mood, and we ordered. I picked out a glorified grilled cheese sandwich I couldn't pronounce.
Luthor said, “That sounds terrific. I'll have the same.”
We chatted for a bit before our food came, talking about how my leg was healing (nicely; the stitches had just come out), how lovely Indonesia was (so lovely), and what Suzanne and Simon had been up to (the usual).
As we were digging into the fragrant lunch, the waiter came by with two very tall, thin glasses of a sparkling drink topped by strawberries. “Compliments of Mr. Hubert,” the waiter said, nodding toward the bar.
Luthor and I both turned, and Mr. Hubert waved back, his coat over his arm, on his way out. I must have flushed through every shade of red in the Blush Book: plum, tomato, raspberry, beet, and strawberry, too.
I knew the handsome man with the silver hair, because a few weeks prior, I'd helped his wife with some clothing shopping and given the man a little treat in a changing room. It was with his wife's permission, as they had some sort of open thing in effect, but it was still shocking to recollect.
Luthor was already sipping the drink. “Not bad,” he said. “At least there's no cucumber. Strange, though, that he'd be sending me drinks. I thought he'd be unhappy about the last company I bought out from underneath him.”
“I have a confession,” I said. “I know Mr. Hubert. Not well, but I think he sent the drinks because of me.”
“Don't tell me they had you over to one of their parties.” His lip curled up in disdain.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Good.” He slurped down the rest of the drink and sighed contentedly, then returned to the sandwich, eating it with his hands instead of with a fork and knife, as I had been.
When he was done, he licked his fingers instead of using the napkin, which I found odd, but didn't comment on.
I was still finishing my salad when he reached under the table and slipped his hand between my knees. The table was glass, with no tablecloth, and I couldn't believe he was being so bold. Getting felt up in a restaurant had not been on my sensual tourism list before, but now, suddenly, it was. I wanted him to slide that hand up to my juicy peach. But I had to resist.
“So, the business,” I said, pulling back in my chair and away from him. “I was wondering if you'd give us some advice about franchising. Or at least expanding.”
He leaned into the table and reached again for my knees, squeezing one.
A few people around us were watching with interest.
He caught my gaze and stared into me with those green-brown eyes, those deep, yearning eyes.
Desire blossomed within me, increasing the pace of my heart and making my palms sweat and my mouth water. Forget lunch. Forget everything. I wanted him. I licked my lips and relaxed my legs, parting them.
He closed his eyes and slid his hand up as far as it would go, mid-thigh.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the people all around us. My attraction to him was too powerful; we'd never be just friends. Run, leave the restaurant, I told myself, but I couldn't get my legs to move. I wanted his hand to travel further. I wanted him on top of me, inside me, possessing me. The man was incredible at sex, and I'd noticed the very first time we were together, when I'd thought of him as a fuck machine. He'd been incredible in Indonesia, and I couldn't deny I craved him.
His hand pulled away, and he was at my side, pulling me up from my chair, my hand in his.
My napkin fell to the floor as we walked away. As we exited the cafe, I said, “Luthor, we didn't pay the bill. It was going to be my treat, too.”
“I own the hotel,” he said.
Just outside the cafe's doors, in the hallway leading to the hotel lobby, he pushed me back against the wood-paneled wall and kissed me. As I tasted his lips and tongue, he pressed his body against mine urgently. My hands slipped under his jacket and around to his back, as though we'd done this a million times.
He pulled away from me. “Wait here. Don't move.”
I did, and he returned a moment later, then led me to the elevators.
Inside the elevator, he pressed the button for the top floor, and then he moved me into a corner and kissed me again, this time all over my throat and down my chest, unbuttoning my blouse as he went.
I gasped when the elevator doors opened, but luckily we were at the top floor, still alone.
He led me down the hall and used the key card to open a door.
I hesitated at the doorway, not stepping into the room. I had to have known this was where it was heading. From the moment he'd made the lunch date at the hotel. Of all the places in the city to eat, a hotel? Oh, Lexie. For a smart girl, you don't always use your brain.
He was already inside the room, hanging up his suit jacket on a wood hanger.
When he saw me, still standing at the door, he stretched out a hand. “Lexie?”
“Luthor, I … I don't know if I should.”
He came over and stood in front of me, just inside the door. The top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened, and I wanted to finish undressing him and run my hands all over his body. But I also didn't want to screw things up, and I knew I would. Just like I had with Jacob, and with every other guy I'd dated.
He looked down and then chuckled nervously. “Don't tell me you asked me out just to get business advice. Please.” He held his hands over his heart. “I don't know if I can take it. I didn't think you cared for me, and then you asked me to meet you, and … I guess it was wishful thinking on my part.” He shook his head. “I'm so stupid.”
I took two steps back, to the middle of the hallway. “Luthor, I don't want to get married and have a bunch of kids and live in the suburbs.”
He looked shocked. “Good god, me neither. Do you think that's what I want?”
“I also don't want to be a possession, a pawn in someone's game. I don't want to be bought. I won't be shipped around for your convenience.”
“Is this because I wasn't on the flight with you? Suzanne said it would be fine.”
I clasped my hands together, then released them and folded my arms. “I guess it's my fault. This whole thing with us has been so bizarre, right from the first time we met.”
“And then you left your panties under my pillow. It drove me crazy. You were in all my dreams. How did you know to do that?”
“My panties? What?” I thought back to the day I'd been hired to arrange the furniture in his bedroom. “That was your assistant, Grace. She actually bought my underwear from me.”
He shook his head. “That stupid bet. So ridiculous.”
“And that bet!” I said, nearly yelling. “What is that all about?”
The elevator doors opened down the hallway and a maid came out with her cart.
Luthor pressed his fingers to his forehead and gave me a crooked smile. “Come inside the room and I'll tell you everything.”
I re-crossed my arms. “No way. If I set foot in there, you'll have my legs in the air and there won't be any conversation.”
“Once I start, I don't stop. Is that so bad?”
“I'm beginning to think it is. I think I do that, with people. Well, not with people. With men. I avoid intimacy by making everything about sex.”
The housekeeper had stopped her cart in the middle of the hallway and was pretending to rearrange the items on it while listening, but I didn't care.
“Intimacy is scary,” he said.
I relaxed my stance a little. “I know, right?”
“I probably do the same thing. That was why I made the bet with Grace. I wanted to stop doing anything that had to do with sex, and see if that cleared my head.”
“And did it?”
He held his hands out. “I think you know how that worked out. I tried to do some yard work to take my mind off sex, but that had unexpected results.”
I took one step closer to the doorway. The air conditioning was rather chilly in the hall, and the suite did look warm and inviting.
“I think Grace was trying to sabotage you. She hired me and told me to stay away from you. Naturally, I wanted to do the exact opposite.”
He grinned. “Reverse psychology.”
I spat out, “Games.”
He shrugged. “No more games, then. Absolute honesty.”
“Fine.” I tapped my foot and gave him a skeptical look. “I gave Mr. Hubert a blow job in a department store change room.”
He winced and swallowed hard. “Lucky guy.” He held his hand out to me. “I'd like us to be exclusive from now on. I don't care what you did in the past, just what you'll do in the future.”
I kept tapping my foot. “Did you book this lunch at a hotel because you were planning to sleep with me?”
“Not planning to. More like hoping to.” He gave me a big smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”
I glanced over at the cleaning woman, who was rapt.
Still holding my ground, I put my hands on my hips. “So, are we dating, or what?”
“We're dating. If you'll agree, I'd like you to be my girlfriend. Officially. I guess I'll lose my bet with Grace, but I can handle the penalty.”
The cleaning woman sighed.
“I think I might be a little screwed up, and maybe you are too, so ...” I looked into his eyes, and I saw something different.
He wasn't just the man who stood before me, Mr. Luthor Thorne. He was also the boy, the one who lost a brother and was left yearning for more emotional contact. On top of that, though, I saw other versions. He was the man he'd be a year from now, made stronger by our bond, more confident. He was the older version of himself, his temples graying, but still handsome, the same man, but more.
In his eyes, I also saw myself, as he saw me. A smart, confident young woman—a little screwed up, but willing to move beyond the past and be loved. Willing to love. Willing to say the words.
I practically ran into the room, throwing myself into him.
We kissed, our lips crushing into each other. The door closed behind me, and I already had Luthor's shirt unbuttoned.
Something caught my eye and I stopped, pulling back. “Seriously? A grand piano?”
Holding my hand, he walked me over to the baby grand in the corner of the room. I'd seen hotel suites like this in magazine and in movies, even in my fantasies, but not in person. My mouth gaped as I stared around at the opulence, from the crystal chandeliers high overhead to the fine furnishings. One night in this suite was likely more than a month's mortgage payment.
“Do you play?” he asked.
“I can noodle around with a few chords, but no, I don't play piano. Do you?”
He sat on the bench and ran his finger down the keys.
He looked up and caught my gaze, and began to play. “Why don't you pour us some of that champagne?”
I turned around and found a tray with champagne, fluted glasses, and strawberries dipped in chocolate. After just eating lunch, I wasn't hungry, but my mouth watered at the sight of them.
Luthor continued to play—something jazzy, but I couldn't have guessed the name of the song—and coaxed me into opening the champagne myself, even though I was terrified of sending the cork into a priceless chandelier.
He laughed. “I own the chandelier and I give you permission.”
With that, I popped it open and only spilled a little bit near my shoes on the hardwood floor.
“Question for you,” I said. “I swear when we first met, I asked if you owned hotels, and you said you didn't. Does the honesty start right now?”
“Ah. You asked if I owned 'hotel chains' and I don't. I own hotels, but they're all boutique hotels. Not chains.”
“Same difference.”
“Okay, I was evading your question. Can you forgive me? I barely knew you. It's a reflex to be vague about … my business.”
I nodded slowly, as though convincing myself. “Okay, I can sorta see that. Actually, I get it. Sometimes I meet people socially and they're so nosy about what I make as an organizer. I don't want to say the annual figure, because it's up and down, plus it's none of their business, but when they find out the hourly rate we charge, they get all weird and stare at me like I'm Donald Trump or something.”
“You look nothing like Donald Trump.”
I laughed. “You would know. You guys are probably golf buddies.”
Luthor made the funniest face, which I took to mean they were not.
I brought the glasses over to the piano. “Good thing I booked the afternoon off work,” I said.
He peered at me through raised eyebrows. “Had you been planning to seduce me?”
“Not consciously.”
He stopped playing long enough to clink his glass to mine and we both took a sip. The champagne was delicious, the bubbles going straight to my head and heightening my excitement.
“You play beautifully.” I leaned my elbows on the piano and stared at him in awe.
“Music helps me focus. When I was studying in college, I could always study better after I played music.”
“I used to go for long walks.”
He smiled. “That's good too.”
He began to play a new song, a different one, and he started to sing.
If my knees hadn't been weak before, they certainly were after Luthor began to sing. His singing voice was even lower, deeper than his speaking voice, and so rich. At first, I thought I was so overwhelmed I'd stopped understanding words, but he was singing in French.
After a few lines, he'd speak softly after singing a line, translating into English. The song was about a person being reminded of someone in the Fall, when the leaves fell from the trees. It was so beautiful and sad at the same time.
When he finished, he stood and wiped a tear from my cheek—a tear I hadn't realized was there.
He
said, “Too dreary, I know. I can play something by Elton John maybe?”
I set down my champagne glass and wrapped my arms around him. “I'm torn. You have an incredible singing voice, but I can't kiss you when you're singing.”
“Mmm,” he said, pressing his lips to mine.
The vibrations of the piano and him singing were still in the room, wrapping around us.
His tongue parted my lips and met mine. His arms went around my waist and we swayed to the memory of the music, our hips moving together. We'd danced like this at the resort, and I was amazed that although we were so new together, we already had so many wonderful memories. And there was still so much more to come.
He picked me up and carried me all the way over to the bed, where we both stood, and he slowly undressed me as I undressed him.
With both of us naked, he rolled down the coverlet of the bed and climbed in, then patted the sheet next to him. It was still mid-day, and the room was brightly lit, the curtains wide open. We'd had plenty of sex before, including at the hotel, but this time it was different. We were being honest.
“I'll want you to meet my mother,” I said.
He pulled the sheet up to cover his erection. “I'd love to. But can we not talk about your mother when we're … you know.”
I put one knee up on the bed. “Okay. And I want to meet your family, too.”
“They're dying to meet you, too.”
I pulled my knee off the bed. “I thought we agreed, no more games.”
He rolled toward me and reached for my hand. “I'm not playing. I told them about you, after the stingray. I was so scared, and after you fell asleep, I called my parents and we had a big talk.”
“Luthor, I need to tell you something else. There was another man I was dating.”
He caught my hand and squeezed it. “Is it in the past?”
“The very recent past.”
He pulled me toward him. “Good enough.”
I climbed into the bed and lay alongside him, the length of our naked bodies touching. “I'm all yours now,” I said.
He kissed my hand. “If you'll have me, I am all yours, too.”
