by Elsa Kurt
I lower myself into the chair across from her and am reassured by the blush that has spread down her neck. I trace the rosy glow across her chest as it disappears between her beautiful breasts. I’m counting the minutes until I can do the same with my tongue.
“Good evening, and welcome to Sea Salt. My name is Sean, and I will be your server tonight. Can I interest you in a bottle from our extensive wine list?”
“No, thank…” I begin.
“Oh yes, please!” Layla interrupts. She reaches for the wine list before I can wave Sean off. Great. This will definitely slow down my attempt to sober her up. Not only that, I now have to trust her to order the wine. God only knows what we will end up drinking.
“Not a wine drinker?” She looks up and catches the end of my scowl that was meant for Sean.
“No, I…”
“Allergic to sulfites?” She raises an eyebrow.
“No.”
“Let me guess, you made some sort of deal with the devil that you would give up wine if he let you walk the Earth looking like some sort of modern-day Adonis.”
She says this last part off-handedly as she peruses the menu. I’m willing to bet she’s not even paying attention.
“First, I drink wine. Second, Adonis?” I can’t help but laugh when she looks up and seems startled.
“I said that out loud?”
“Adonis. A Phoenician demi-god of beauty and desire. A central figure to several myths and legends. I would take that as a compliment if I were you.” Sean’s cheerful voice is no disguise for his mocking.
“Finally, a man who gets me.” Layla looks up at him and smiles. I may have to fire him for that.
“I guess that means your name is Aphrodite.” He grins down at her.
“Nope, just Layla.”
“Middle name?”
“Nope, just plain Layla Ann Jensen.”
“Oh, there’s nothing plain about you.”
I’m not sure if I should be impressed that he just got her to tell him her full name, a fact that will help Matthew with the room change, or if I should be furious that he’s flirting with my date.
“If you’re trying to flatter me to improve your tip, it’s totally working.” Her blush makes the decision for me.
“Unless I’m the one paying you, in which case flirting with my date is probably a bad idea.”
Sean’s smile disappears at my threat.
“Oh, ignore him,” Layla waves her hand at me. “This isn’t a date. And I think we will have the Guigal La Doriane Condrieu 2013.”
Sean nods and makes a hasty retreat. I’m finally alone with her. The problem is, I’m not sure where to start. I watch her blue eyes drift over me, the color made brilliant by the water behind her. When she reaches my face again they soften, and I can see that she’s as uncertain as I am as to how to proceed.
“Let’s start over,” I begin.
“This really is not a date,” she says. But the tone makes it sound like an apology more than a rejection.
“No?” I tilt my head. I’m trying to remember the last woman who tried to turn me down for a date.
“No. When someone is being paid to spend time with me, it’s really not a date.”
“How often are people paid to spend time with you?” I take a sip of water and wait to see if she’s okay with a little teasing.
“All the time, actually.” She smiles. “Lawyers, consultants, accountants, most of my staff.”
“Ah, so this is a business meeting?”
“I suppose it is.” She crinkles her nose just a little.
“Do you usually order $300 bottles of wine for your business meetings?”
Surprise transforms her face and I can’t help but think of how much I’m going to enjoy her expressions later tonight.
“How do you know the cost of the wine I ordered?”
I shrug and shake my napkin out to stall. I know because this is my restaurant. But I can’t admit that, can I? But I also don’t really want to lie to her.
“This is one of my favorite restaurants, one of my favorite spots, and that is one of my favorite bottles of wine.”
I watch her eyes narrow and I can tell she’s trying to reconcile the fact that I know wine with the idea that I am a stripper. Luckily, Sean arrives just in time to distract us both and I’m relieved to see her lean back into her chair when he pours her a glass.
“Have you had a chance to look at the menu or should I give you a moment?” Sean glances between us.
“Well, my friend Max here says this is his favorite restaurant, so I’ll let him order for us both.” Layla smiles sweetly in my direction and I can tell this is a test. What kind of test, I don’t know, but if she thinks I’m going to back down she is mistaken.
“Any allergies?” I return her smile.
“No.”
“Okay then, the lady will have the scallops and I will have the salmon. And we will start off with the bisque. One bowl, two spoons.”
“Absolutely, Max. Anything else?” I can see the edge of his lips quirk up with the use of the nickname. No one ever calls me Max.
“Yes, it’s Maxwell.”
“Of course, sir.” Sean is enjoying this way too much.
When I look back at Layla she’s studying me with an intensity that is a little unnerving.
“Yes?”
“Tell me your faults,” she answers seriously.
Normally I would respond with a smart-ass comment about being insatiable in bed or being too wealthy, but her sincerity throws me off. I don’t think she’s playing a game or trying to find a weakness. It really feels like she wants to know, and I have no idea why. All I can manage in response is a questioning look.
“If I’ve learned anything from my clients, it’s that it more efficient to start with the faults. You seem a little too good to be true. You must have some terrible faults.”
“Clients?”
“I’m a consultant. I provide leadership training and coaching to everyone from congressmen to CEOs.”
“Interesting. Who do you work for?”
“Myself.”
I can hear the pride in her voice and it only makes her sexier. Some men shy away from a powerful woman. In my experience, a little confidence can mean a lot of fun in the bedroom. And if I really want to see the inside of hers, I probably should keep my mouth shut about my faults.
Luckily, I’m saved from answering by my favorite concierge, Stacy. If Matthew sent her, he must be expecting a problem. Stacy handles all our most important and particular guests, which means she’s great when someone is a pain in the ass. I glance over at Layla and wonder which one of us Matthew thinks will be the pain in the ass.
It’s probably smart. I have no idea how Layla will respond to having her room changed. If she’s anything like most of the women I’ve dated, she will probably be a royal bitch. It won’t change my plans for tonight, though. Except maybe I’ll fuck her a little harder.
“Excuse me. I’m so sorry to bother you, but are you Layla Jensen?” Stacy’s smile is wide, but I can see the tightness in her jaw. She’s probably pissed that she’s being sent to deal with one of my conquests.
“Yes.” Layla smiles up at her and tilts her head slightly.
How can one woman be so sexy and so adorable at the same time? And since when did I go for adorable?
“My name is Stacy, and I’m one of the concierges for the de’Scala. I’m so sorry to bother you, but there’s been a small problem with your room.”
“Oh no! Is everything okay?”
“All of your belongings are fine. There was just a small water leak, so we need to move you out of your room.”
“Oh, wow. Okay, well, I can just stay with my friend Cici. She might be a little irritated that I’m there, but this trip was her idea…and if I’m not having any sex, then why should she?” She punctuates the statement with a laugh.
I’m hoping the guys are catching this moment on the cameras because I’m definitely going to
replay the tape for Stacy. The look on her face is priceless. Layla takes in her surprise and frowns.
“Sorry,” Layla continues, “I’ve had a few cocktails and they make me say things out loud.”
“Oh, no need to apologize. I just…” Stacy glances briefly at me and I can only imagine how she would finish that sentence if she were being honest. I just thought since you’re here with Maxwell you’re probably a bitch. I just assumed since Maxwell is paying attention to you, you’re probably a tramp. I just figured this is all about sex. Okay, to be fair to Stacy, the last one is accurate, but Layla doesn’t know that.
“I mean, what I meant to say was that we need to move you to a different room. We’ve upgraded you to one of our suites at no cost. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Oh, no problem. Do you need me to move my things?”
Stacy shakes her head and smiles. “We’ve already taken care of it. Here are the new keys for your room. It’s in the south tower. The elevators are behind the theatre, just over there. You are in the Da Vinci Suite.”
“Thank you, Stacy. And thank you for the upgrade, although it really wasn’t necessary. And I hope the room isn’t too much work for your guys. Water leaks can be awful to deal with.”
Stacy smiles again and this time it’s genuine. Of course it’s genuine. Layla is respectful and considerate. It might not sound like much, but I’m constantly amazed how people treat my employees.
This girl may be too nice for me. Maybe I should tell her my faults and let her get away while she still can.
“No problem, Ms. Jensen. And thank you for taking this all so well.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. You identified and rectified the problem before I even knew it existed. Why on Earth would I be upset? You’re doing a fabulous job.”
Seeing them smile at each other like old friends makes me a little nervous. None of my staff have ever actually liked a woman I’ve slept with. This feels like dangerous territory. I clear my throat and hope that Stacy will get the message. Apparently, she does.
“Thank you so much. And enjoy your dinner. The hotel will take care of that as well. And I hope you both have a wonderful evening.” But before she leaves she turns to me and adds, “And hold onto this one. She’s a keeper.”
Layla just laughs and shakes her head as Stacy walks away. For a moment, I think Stacy might be onto something, but when Layla turns to face me her eyes are serious.
“This is not a date,” she states softly.
I’m not sure which one of us she’s trying to convince, but she will eventually figure out that she’s wrong.
Chapter 3
Layla
This is not a date. Maybe if I keep telling myself that it will sink in. It’s a little hard for my alcohol soaked brain to comprehend. I think it has something to do with the fact that I’m sitting in a romantic little alcove sipping one of my favorite wines. It probably doesn’t help that the man across from me looks like he should be splashed across the cover of GQ. I’m starting to like Las Vegas more and more every second.
“What were your faults again?” I ask. Surely there is something very wrong with him. I just need to learn what it is so that I can refocus.
“You first.” He smiles, and for a moment I’m left staring once again. When my eyes meet his, he looks at me like he has already won. I have a feeling he’s right, even though I don’t even know the game.
“My faults?” I tilt my head and consider him. I’m not accustomed to being the one questioned, but it’s Vegas. What’s the danger of a little transparency with a guy I’ll never see again? “Well, let’s see. You’re in luck. I’ve just recently had the long list of my faults recited to me. Do you want the whole list or just the top three?”
“Let’s go with the top three.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his wine.
“Well, I’m a workaholic. I’m oblivious to my impact on other people. Oh, and I’m selfish and going to end up all alone with no one to love.”
“Ouch.”
“Yep.” I take a deep pull on my wine and glance at him through the glass. Even with the distortion, I can tell he has gone serious.
“I assume that list was your ex’s.”
“That obvious?”
“I’ve heard the same list. Except for the alone part. That seems to be the ultimate threat to a woman. As a man I tend to hear that I’m selfish and will end up with a woman that is exactly who I deserve.”
“Ouch.”
“Yes. It’s funny how getting what you deserve is never assumed to be a good thing.”
I can’t help but laugh at his observation. He laughs with me even though the conversation is clearly sad for us both.
“That’s true.” I lean over the table to whisper. “Won’t they be pissed if what you deserve is perfection?”
“They will.” He leans in to meet me. “And if that’s the case, I’m certainly sitting at the right table.”
I feel the blush burn across my cheeks despite the fact that it’s just a cheesy line.
“What about you? What is it that you deserve?” His eyes are locked on mine as I ponder the question. I’m not actually sure what I deserve. I don’t think I deserve all the spite from my ex. But I’m not sure I deserve much better.
But maybe I do. Maybe for one night I deserve to just live a little. I deserve a tiny bit of joy. I deserve a taste of perfection.
“I think I deserve a break.”
“A break?” He lifts his eyebrow and I realize that now is not the time for subtlety.
“A break. And maybe a tiny taste of perfection. In which case, I think I may be sitting at the right table.”
“Your soup.” Sean clears his throat as he places the small bowl between us. “Two spoons. Can I get you anything else Ms. Jensen?”
“No, thank you.” I smile politely and watch as he looks at Max for confirmation.
He is dismissed by a slight shake in Max’s dark waves and I find myself holding my breath to see what happens next. Max just dips a spoon into the soup and offers a taste in my direction. I open my mouth but close my eyes as soon as the flavors hit my tongue. Amazing.
“You are correct.” Max’s low chuckle brings me back to the restaurant. “You are at the right table. And this bisque is certainly perfection.”
I watch as he dips the same spoon and enjoys a taste of his own and wonder what just happened.
This is how the entire dinner proceeds. Through topics of movies and books and favorite meals, we laugh and flirt. One moment I think he’s hitting on me and the next he’s as innocent as sugar-free frozen yogurt.
It’s not until we finished off the last morsel of toffee bread pudding that I realize that my non-date is coming to an end. It’s sad, really. This has been the best non-date I’ve ever been on. This has been the best date date I’ve ever been on.
I glance down at my watch and realize my two hours are up. I know I was thinking of how to murder Cici for this earlier, but now I’m grateful to her for hiring Max the stripper. I’m sure she had something else in mind, but her intentions were met. I’ve been here for two hours and haven’t thought of my ex but once. Two hours of feeling comfortable and flirty and free with a man so beautiful my stomach aches a little when I look at him. A perfect night of fantasy. A perfect night in Vegas. Too bad it has to end.
“Let me walk you to your room.” Max is busy folding his napkin but looks up at me through his dark lashes. It seems like he may be thinking the same thing.
And what’s the danger of it all, anyway? I’ll let him walk me to my room, maybe kiss me goodnight. The thought sends my focus straight to his lips again. I know I’m caught when he grins and cocks his head. Which is probably why I should say no. I’ve flirted enough for one night. No need to push my luck. My answer is definitely no.
“Sure.” The traitorous word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Let me just settle our bill.” I look around for the waiter, mostly to avoid eye contact. Sean appears as if he has b
een just waiting for our next request. But when I ask for the check, he just shakes his head and laughs.
“Oh no, Stacy was very clear that the hotel was covering it.”
“But what about the wine? That’s an expensive comp for just a room change.”
“Nope, the wine too. I’ll admit that it’s a little strange. The owner doesn’t usually do such things. He must really like you.” He glances at Max and winks.
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really know me.” I shake my head in confusion.
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t really matter.” Sean shrugs and walks away.
Well, that was strange. But even if they comp the meal and the wine, I should still leave a tip. I reach into my bra and pull out a hundred dollar bill for the table.
“What on Earth are you doing?” Max looks from my chest to the table.
“I have to at least leave a tip.”
“And do you usually wander around with $100 bills in your bra?”
“Well, no, but Cici wouldn’t let me bring a purse. I may not have room for my phone, but I thought it smart to at least bring some cash and my ID.” I glance self-consciously down at my dress.
“Wait, you don’t even have a phone?”
“Where would I be hiding a phone?” I shrug.
“Your friend just let you leave with some strange man without even a phone to call for help?”
“We’re in a crowded casino. What could go wrong?”
He opens his mouth to respond but seems to think better of it.
“I’m definitely walking you to your room.” He stands and offers me his hand as he scowls at the money on the table. It seems to personally offend him in some way, but I have no idea why. Surely a man in his profession can appreciate the importance of good tipping.
“You don’t have to, you know. We passed the two-hour mark at least twenty minutes ago. If you have someplace else to be…”
He places his hand on my lower back and guides me through the restaurant with ease. “I have no other appointments. And nowhere else I’d rather be.”
It’s strange, but in this moment I feel the exact same way.
