Page 5 of Hidden Heart

The peck Alex gave her before he left had made her uncomfortable. She’d wiped the kiss from her cheek as soon as he’d turned away. The situation appeared awkward, as though her brother had just made a pass at her. She wasn’t one for open affection, no hugs to any of her friends as she left, just a simple wave of her hand. But her controlled features had warmed at the sight of the couple outside her apartment building. She had watched the passionate embrace intently, and she’d listened with keen precision as the woman spoke to her lover.

What an odd thing to call your lover, she had said.

How beautiful her voice would sound when she called him “Sir” for the first time.

Chapter 2

The cool winds of fall swirled leaves in miniature tornado fashion on the sidewalk. Jessica stood on her steps, hugging her jacket closed. She debated going up into her apartment to grab a scarf but decided against it. He would be there any moment, and she did not want Royce in her apartment.

Keeping things casual would be the best thing for them both. Dinner as friends. Nothing more, nothing less. She wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend, her plan was to remain as platonic as possible. He seemed to be a respectable man; he’d honor her choice. She only wished the weather would cooperate with her decision to wait outside.

“Hey!” Royce’s voice called out. He walked down the street toward her, not in a cab like she had expected. She stepped down and greeted him.

His clothing indicated he had the same idea as her about being casual. He wore jeans—very nicely—as well as a cotton shirt peeking out from where he left the top button of his coat undone. His hair had a carefree disheveled appearance, like he’d combed his fingers through a few times and left the rest to chance. The severe business look he had at their first meeting was gone. This Royce was even more handsome— tempting and dangerous.

“Am I late?” He checked his watch.

“No. No. I just wanted some fresh air,” she lied.

He looked her over with a blank expression, making her fidget under his scrutiny.

“That’s one.” He held up a single gloved finger in the air, his left eyebrow raised. “Okay, let’s go.” He smiled, turned on his heel, and began walking.

She stared after him for a moment, then rushed to catch up. “Where are we going?” she asked as she met his stride.

“My place. Did you bring gloves?” He took a pair of knit gloves from his coat pocket and handed them to her before she answered.

“Thanks.” She slid her fingers into the warmth and stuffed her hands into her pockets. They walked in silence for two blocks before turning down a third. She wasn’t sure about heading to his place. Dinner was supposed to be friendly—nothing serious. And what did he mean by “that’s one”?

“Just there.” He pointed down the street toward a high-rise apartment building.

She stopped mid step to take in the beautiful building. The marble tiling of the lobby fed her love of the gothic architecture slowly fading from the city. Lights shone from random windows, giving the building the emblematic downtown appearance.

“You okay?” He stopped walking and turned toward her.

“Yeah, it’s just…well…never mind.” She shook her head and caught up to him again. “Don’t you want to go out for dinner? You don’t have to cook for me.”

“Restaurants are too impersonal, this way we’ll have some privacy. And I love cooking. Good evening, Robert,” he greeted the doorman as they walked through the door.

“Privacy for what?” She allowed caution to ease into her tone.

“Talking. It’s just dinner, remember?” He flashed her a smile as he pressed the button for the elevator. They rode in silence. Numbers flashed at each floor, but she only noticed how close he stood to her. Their fingers would touch if she moved slightly to the right. She wondered about his fingers, how they would feel on her skin, taste on her lips.

“Just across the hall.” He motioned when the doors slid open. Clearing her throat, she followed his directions.

His apartment was enormously luxurious. Her one-bedroom condo could learn a thing or two from this apartment.

“I started cooking already. I just need to get the chicken out of the oven. Can I get you a glass of wine?” He helped remove her coat and hung it up in the front closet.

“Uh, sure.” Still standing in the front hall, she admired the abstract art pieces on the wall while he disappeared. “It’s weird how close we live,” she remarked when he returned, handing her a glass of white wine.

“Weird in a good way.” He winked at her and headed back to the kitchen.

She stood there for another moment. He was becoming more interesting and terrifying as the night progressed. He’d thought of bringing her gloves in case she had forgotten hers—which she had. His glances wrapped around her when they spoke, as though he were circling her, waiting to strike. Sensations of fear and comfort mingled, stalling her thoughts.

Taking a relaxing breath, she followed the warm aroma to the kitchen. If she was going to make it through the evening, she would need to stop analyzing everything. Just go with the flow. Casual, stick to casual.

She leaned against the doorway, watching him pull a tray of chicken from the oven and setting it on the countertop. Everything in his apartment seemed to be state of the art. The stove alone would most likely cost her a month’s salary.

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