Page 39 of Business or Pleasure

“You didn’t want to know my net worth?” Again, that same amused tone that wasn’t reflected in his eyes.

I could see that my answer was important to him, and I wouldn’t sound so blasé about it like I had about his family. “I do know it. Evaluating the financial worth of everyone involved is part of my job.”

“And?” Still light-hearted, but I could hear a hint of wariness.

“And I won’t insist on splitting the dinner bill.” I matched his light-hearted tone.

He looked at me hard, as if he was trying to read my mind. My soul. “You are quite different from any other woman I’ve ever known.”

Before I could decide if that was a compliment, we were pulling up in front of The Pink Door. Jin and Quaid were already there, with Quaid looking distinctly uncomfortable in a pair of dark slacks and a white button-down shirt. Jin looked like she took her outfit straight out of Joan Jett’s closet, nice enough for the restaurant, but with the same attitude and style that she always had.

“Happy birthday,” I said as I leaned in for a quick hug. “Jin, Quaid, I’d like you to meet Baylen McFann.”

“Hey, I’m Jin Renshaw.”

My friend’s gaze ran over Baylen, a look that some people might’ve thought was checking him out. She was ‘checking him out’ all right, but it was about her making sure he was okay for me.

“Happy birthday, Ms. Renshaw.” Baylen put out a hand.

One corner of Jin’s mouth tipped up in a half-smile and she shook Baylen’s hand. “Do you moan in that accent?”

“Jin.” I smacked my friend’s arm as she laughed.

Baylen’s lips twitched in amusement. “You’ll have to ask your friend.”

My jaw dropped. Before I could say anything in response though, the hostess came over to show us to our table. Once there, our conversation turned away from teasing.

Baylen told us about what it was like having four siblings, and Quaid told him how it’d been growing up as an only child. Jin and I kept things vague about our childhoods. With the exception of my first eleven years with my mother, neither Jin nor I had many happy memories to share. I asked what Scotland was like, and he wanted to know our favorite things about living in Seattle.

We ate great food and enjoyed the live music and, despite the presence of two other people, the chemistry between Baylen and I was crackling until I could almost hear it. Then the pianist hit a couple wrong notes, which caught some attention. Not as much as when he stood up, swayed, and then drunkenly lurched toward the edge of the stage, barely stopping in time to prevent himself from falling off.

The manager apologized profusely, and Baylen turned to me.

“You said that you played the piano?”

Then, somehow, I ended up on the stage sitting at the piano, Baylen sitting next to me, his eyes on me. Jin and Quaid cheered from our table as I tapped out “Happy Birthday.” When I finished, I attempted to leave, but Jin shouted out that she wanted more.

I decided to mix it up a bit and do some Elton John next. In the middle of “Rocketman” I saw Baylen’s fingers moving on his thigh, matching the movements I was making. I looked at him, and he grinned.

I transitioned into “Your Song” and nodded at him. Smoothly, as if we’d been doing this for years, I dropped one of my hands, and he took over. By the time we finished, half of the restaurant was on their feet, and I was remembering what other things our bodies could do well together.

* * *

Kissing was good.

Better than good.

But I knew that already. Just like I knew how much I liked his hands on my body. Not just his hands, either. I wanted his mouth. The weight of his body resting on mine. We hadn’t kissed yet tonight. Hadn’t really even touched much. But when he said the word hotel, we both knew what it would mean if I agreed.

Of course, I said yes.

I wasn’t an idiot.

So now we were in his very nice hotel room helping each other out of our clothes. And, damn, he was just as hot as I remembered.

“Do you work out?” I asked as I ran my hands over his broad shoulders, traced the muscles in his arms. “Or are you one of those guys who just wakes up in the morning looking like that?”

I didn’t know which I liked better: the way his eyes lit up when I said something that made him happy, or the way they went to that velvety midnight blue when he was turned on.

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