After we ordered two buffalo caprese salads and eggplant bruschetta, we perused the wine selection. We settled on a bottle of red wine that cost as much as my car insurance. Jax swirled the contents before taking a drink. A nod was the signal of approval and then he poured the cranberry colored liquid into my glass.
“Johnnie Walker black, rocks,” he said to the server.
“You aren’t having any wine?”
“I’ll have a glass with dinner.”
“So,” I drawled out. “Do you come here often?” I laughed at my own question.
“Not as much as I would like,” he replied. “I was here in June for Carol’s birthday.”
Jealousy spread through my chest at the thought of Carol sitting here with Jax in such an intimate setting laughing and talking. Had they been an item?
“Is that something you do often, join your employees for birthday dinners at expensive restaurants?”
“Not particularly,” he replied. “But, when the woman I’m seeing asks me to accompany her to her sister’s birthday dinner. I’m obligated to go.”
I stilled, my heart galloping in my chest. “Carol has a sister and you dated her?”
My mind raced thinking back to the article for the Children’s Hospital fundraiser and the brunette on his arm. Was she Carol’s sister? Why did they break-up? This could explain Carol’s shitty attitude towards me.
“Yes, her name is Trina and we weren’t in a committed relationship,” he commented. “I had several charitable obligations and I was advised to be seen with someone on my arm.”
“Why?” I pressed, my voice taking on shakiness.
He leaned forward. “I had been considering a run for the state senate.”
I shook my head in confusion, and even though I heard him perfectly I still asked the question. “Are you serious?”
Before he could reply, our server breezed in depositing our appetizers, Jax’s scotch, and then refilling our water glasses. My fingers tapped against my lips. A senator—he wanted to be a senator?
“I can tell this is all overwhelming, let me explain,” he said, draping his linen napkin across his lap. “I was considering a run for senate, but then I decided that further expanding Hart Hotels was more important to me. I couldn’t do both so I put my political aspirations on hold.”
“On hold, as in you’d like to resume them at some point?” I stabbed at a tomato with my fork.
“I intend to, yes.”
“And you need to be seen in public with someone on your arm, because it shows commitment, a dedication of sorts.”
He nodded. “Being viewed as coupled as opposed to a single bachelor does appeal more favorably to voters.”
“Jesus Christ, Jackson, when were you planning to tell me all of this?” My fork clanged against the salad plate and my words spilled out harsher than I intended. I took a hurried sip of wine.
“Are you mad?”
“Are you avoiding my question?” I shot back.
I was somewhat getting used to the idea of being in his world. Now, suddenly it didn’t feel like Jax’s world, the guy I’d met who helped me with my car and talked about state fair food. It definitely felt like Jackson James Hart’s world, and I was plain old Stevie Brockman who lived in a two bedroom rental above a Chinese restaurant. Forget the staff at Hart Hotels finding out about the two of us. The press would have a field day with that information. I wasn’t exactly the epitome of a senator’s girlfriend.
“Look, Stevie, I am not sure what the future holds. What I do know is that I like spending time with you. I also like a nice glass of scotch, politics and playing nine holes of golf.” He leaned closer to me. “And normally holidays are just another day for me. Sometimes I spend them eating alone at the hotel, but today I am with you and I’m happier than I have been in a long time—happy and not just going through the motions of the day.”
My heart splintered at his admission. I couldn’t help feeling like shit, because I could relate on some level. Holidays back home were spent mostly avoiding my redneck cousins and listening to my dad and his hillbilly brother talk about the good old days—it was the same ten stories repeated every time. Depending on the holiday I could pick up a shift at the country club. I’d spend the day waiting on other people and their families. After the restaurant had closed, the serving staff would haul ass down the buffet line filling our plates with French toast, extra crispy bacon and mushy eggs.
“Sorry, I just felt a little blindsided,” I said, picking up my fork and returning to my salad.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“You’re forgiven and, for the record, I’m happy too, I’m really glad to be here with you.”
“Good.”
The sun dipped behind the clouds casting a shadow over the room. I studied Jax, watching him eat, and I wasn’t thinking about apologies, or home, or work or the future. For a moment I enjoyed the way his lips closed over the tines of his fork and the way his blue eyes sparkled even in the dim light.
Jax leaned closer, threading his hands through my hair. “Kiss me.”
My lips moved over his, he tasted like olive oil and red wine. He took his time, tugging at my lower lip, licking his tongue against mine. Time stood still, and I barely remembered ordering dinner, yet here I sat in a private dining room sharing a meal with the man who dominated conference rooms. A man, who could order an entire meal in Italian as fluidly as he could chat about golf statistics. A man, who I was very much starting to fall for.
“So, what are you doing the weekend of December sixteenth?”
“Let me consult my secretary,” I answered, twirling the linguine around the tines of my fork. “Why, what’s going on?”
“I’ve been invited to speak at my alma mater and I’d like you to go with me.”
“That’s exciting. Yale or Florida International?”
“FIU, but I’d love to take you up to New Haven. I haven’t been there in a while.”
Jax wanted to take me to Connecticut. I suppose for him that was like me meeting his family.
“You realize that you’re inviting me to a public event. We risk being exposed. Anyone could take our picture.”
Jax nodded, his jaw pulsing. “I want you with me, by my side, at this event. Pictures and press, I’ll handle it.”
I expected pressure to build in my chest or a panic freak out to arise, but there was nothing. Only calm. Only him and I.
“What should I wear?”
“It’s a fundraising gala, formal attire is required.”
“Well, then, I guess you’ve got a date for your big night.”
DECEMBER WAS OFF TO A chaotic start. My gaze travelled around my apartment eyeing the scene splayed before me. It was a toss-up—either a hurricane had blasted through or I’d been robbed—thankfully neither was the case.
Boxes were stacked everywhere on the new hardwood floor. Part of the kitchen wall was tiled, the other half bare. White subway tiles, paint cans, paint brushes and paint rollers lined the new island. My new cabinets sat covered in plastic wrap.
“Okay, I got most of my clothes packed away and I ordered the pizza. It will be here in twenty.” Megyn emerged from her room piling her hair on top of her head in a bun.
“I still can’t believe that you’re leaving. I will miss our pizza and Netflix nights.”
She grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap. “I know. It’s the end of an era.”
I laughed at her Friends reference. Megyn had given me thirty days’ notice that she was moving out. After Thanksgiving, she’d been recruited by some guy who was in need of an executive assistant. He’d been dining at the restaurant where she worked for a few days. Apparently, Megyn had impressed him with her attention to detail and impeccable people skills. I couldn’t blame her for taking the job. The pay was nearly six figures and she had the use of a town car at her disposal. So come the new year, I’d be living alone.
The good news was that
my holiday bonus was enough to cover the renovations and makeover this place needed in the kitchen and living room. Jax had put me in contact with someone to do the flooring, and his appliance guy was more than gracious in giving me a fair price to replace the fridge, microwave, dishwasher and stove. The bathroom and the bedrooms were next on my list. I had a lot of work to keep me busy.
“So, Miami, huh?”
Megyn nodded and planted herself on a barstool at the island. “Yep, but I am going to miss this place. I can’t thank you enough for the last months. You’re a great roommate, Stevie.”
I pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. “You too, and you will do great things in Miami. I just know it.”
She smiled, and pulled at the label on the bottle. “What will you do when this place is fully made over?”
I took a seat next to her, and poured the wine. “Honestly, I think I might try and sell. Rumor has it that Mister Lin is shopping buyers for the restaurant. If that is true, I kind of want to ask Jax if he would consider loaning me the money to buy it.”
Her eyes popped. “You want to buy a Chinese restaurant?”
I gulped my wine and laughed. “I want to turn it into another apartment or an art gallery.”
She tossed her head back her body shaking in laughter. “That’s actually brilliant. Do you think that he would give you the money?”
“I think give is a strong word in this scenario. I think Jax would consider it, if he thought it was the right business move.”
She shot me a knowing glance. “I think he’d give you your own island if you asked for it. From my where I’m sitting, you’ve done what most women could only dream of.”
I swallowed another swig of wine. “Oh yeah, and what would that be?”
She pointed her bottle at me. “You’ve kept Jackson Hart, one of the most eligible bachelors in Florida, off the market for months.”
Has it been that long? Months? I swallowed the rest of my drink allowing that thought to sink in.
“Don’t you think that means something?”
I dangled my empty glass in my hand. “Well, he did ask me to go away with him next weekend. He’s the keynote speaker for a fundraising gala at FIU.”
“A big important speech and he wants you there,” she remarked. “Do you love him?”
I pushed up from my seated position. “I need more wine.”
“Are you avoiding the question?”
“You’re asking me if I love Jax. Couldn’t you have asked me an easier question, like—what’s new with you?”
“Well, I would have but that dreamy look on your face at the mention of his name—the issue needs addressing.”
Holding my breath, I turned back to face Megyn, who was grinning like an idiot with her chin propped in her hand.
“Enlighten me, please,” I said, uncorking the wine bottle.
Megyn smiled and nodded. “He makes you happy, and as soon as you start talking about him your whole body lights up. You’re falling for him, either that or you’ve already fallen and you haven’t admitted it to yourself.”
My whole body lit up? Like I’m damn Christmas tree?
What I felt between us, was not a spark, but a bonfire roaring through every fiber of my body.
Filling me.
Consuming me.
It burned so hot, I feared that I wouldn’t escape it, but at the same time I needed it, craved it.
Part of me wondered what it would be like to have those flames burning my soul forever. If those flames were extinguished, my heart would live in darkness and I’d have no one to blame but myself.
Megyn licked her lips, while a broad smile spread across her face. “Well, I won’t look for a couples Christmas card from the two of you, yet.”
I gulped my wine. “Yeah, well, what you can do is help me look for a dress for the gala. Actually, I probably need a few.”
“You should wear something in winter white. Give him a preview of what you’d look like as a blushing bride.”
Megyn wasn’t wrong about the blushing part, she was however, wrong about the bride part. “I’m not even twenty-four yet, no way in hell I am ready for marriage.”
“So what do you want out of this relationship?”
“Honestly, I’m trying to wrap my head around all of it. On Thanksgiving, he told me that he considered a run for the senate. He has political aspirations. I feel like I have only scratched the surface with this man.”
I skimmed through the highlights of my conversations with Jax, keeping the sex as PG-rated as I could. The Jax I knew was funny and generous and above all a gentleman. He was the kind of man you dreamt about as an actual Prince Charming, except I was certain Disney princes didn’t say depraved and dirty words in bed. Perhaps, William and Harry did. Okay, Harry did.
There was a loud knock at the door, most likely the pizza, but for safe measure I peered through the peephole to confirm.
After I paid for the food, Megyn and I settled in for a night of Fuller House and online dress shopping. My phone buzzed and I studied the screen.
Jax: Wish you were here, but I know that you need your girls night.
Me: Don’t you have guys nights, like ever? Do you even have friends?
Jax: I do. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
Me: Try me.
Jax: Matthew Barber is one of my closest friends.
I screeched out loud nearly spilling my wine and avoiding major disaster by saving my laptop from crashing to the floor.
“What the hell?” Megyn called out.
I shoved my phone in her face and her expression confirmed we both had some questions for Jax.
Me: Are you telling me that you are friends with one of the most popular movie stars on the planet? If you are lying to me.
Jax: I’m not lying.
Me: How did you meet him?
Jax: I met him in grad school. Matthew was visiting a friend at Yale and he played in one of our casino weekends. This was before he was famous.
Me: How was he able to afford the buy in?
Jax: I am not allowed to reveal those details.
Me: I respect that, but holy shit, Jax, you’re friends with a celebrity?
Jax: I am. Right now, I am having dinner with a non-celebrity, but I wanted to say goodnight and I will talk to you soon.
Me: Goodnight xx
THE WEEK FLEW BY IN a blur. A good portion of my time outside work was spent writing my speech for the FIU winter gala. Between meetings and holiday lunches, I had zero time to shop for a new suit. My assistant, Ingrid, managed to have a few racks of suits delivered from Neiman’s for me to try and I added ten more to my wardrobe.
We landed in Miami, the familiar scent of swampy humidity welcoming us with open arms. I had a town car waiting for us upon arrival. We checked into the hotel and, out of habit, I inspected every aspect of the Presidential suite. The space was impressive with its bi-level floor plan and dramatic ocean views. The art deco style was fitting, and I quite liked the terrazzo floors and massive aquarium wall.
“Damn, this place is nice,” Stevie remarked on a whistle. “I love the domed ceiling.”
“It’s okay.”
“Okay,” she repeated cocking a brow. “Okay is the Hilton Garden Inn at the Tampa Airport. This place is something out of a dream.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I poured a glass of red wine for Stevie and then made myself a drink.
“I like reading travel blogs, and this one writer did an entire post on the okayest hotel in Florida. It was a great read.” Her laugh boomed through the space.
I loved her laugh and I needed it right now. Irritation consumed me, and it had nothing to do with Stevie and everything to do with being back here in Miami. I hated that this city was a stain on my memory. Being back here after all these years left me feeling an odd mixture of anger and sadness.
She grabbed the bottle of wine from the bar. “I’m going to start getting ready for the evening. That massive rain show
er is calling my name.”
I nodded, lifting the glass. “Enjoy.” I watched as Stevie climbed the stairs to the master suite. Once she disappeared, I walked onto the balcony. Even in the afternoon, the city was alive with energy. I watched as people hurried inside cafes and bars for tapas and happy hour drinks. Everything and nothing had changed. The last time I had been here was the day I sold this place. Stevie had no idea this was my former hotel. Thankfully, no one had recognized me when we checked in. Although, it had been years and my new last name wouldn’t raise any chatter.
For another thirty minutes, I watched more people slip inside places guarding their designer clothes from the afternoon rain shower. The lightning flashing in the distance was my cue to head upstairs to shower and change.
“Why didn’t we stay closer to the university?” Stevie asked, as we stepped out of the car. “I mean, why didn’t we stay at this hotel?”
“How can you come to Miami and not stay near the beach?”
“Good point.”
Inside the banquet room, ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling drenching the room in a soft glimmering light. Ivory clothed tables surrounded the room decorated with floating candles and lush greenery runners with baby’s breath.
A giant screen flashed black and white photos of me and my work including my philanthropic endeavors. All of it I had pre-approved.
“Very impressive, Mister Hart.” Stevie nudged my arm with her shoulder. “I’m going to find the ladies room.”
“Okay, I’ll get us some drinks and meet you over at table one.”
I made my way to the bar, pushing through the crowd. When I ordered our drinks, I felt someone tapping my shoulder from behind.
Turning around, I found myself face to face with my ex-mentor, John Wright. He had been like a father to me, now he was only a man who I hated slightly less than my own father.
“Hello, Jax,” he said, stepping closer to me.
“John.” I glanced at his lapel. “So you’re a professor now? I hope that you’re not teaching business ethics.”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t sure that you would recognize me.”
Wicked Gentleman Page 16
