Page 51 of False Evidence

She pulled the bottle from the silver bucket and checked the wrap around the cork. She nodded and handed the bottle to him to open.

“Why here and not in the restaurant?” she asked as he performed the chore.

“My family does a lot of business here. I’m known in the restaurant. Someone might slip.”

He was respecting her wishes to keep his identity secret. She appreciated that. Still, that raised more questions. “So why not choose a place where you can be anonymous?”

“Because we do so much business here, I was able to get our usual suite. I’ve decided to stay here instead of with family until after the New Year.”

The Mayflower was high-end, and he said his room was a suite. She’d figured he was in a good financial position, but there was comfortable, and there was ten-days-at-the-Mayflower-when-you-could-stay-elsewhere-for-free level of wealth.

If his family did business here, he must come from money. She brushed aside the thoughts. She didn’t want to know who he was. This was just meant to be fun. An escape.

She didn’t want to know who he was because it didn’t matter in the long run. After the holidays, he’d return to New York—assuming he lived where he voted—and she’d be back in school, sleeping, eating, living, and breathing nothing but theoretical physics.

He filled her glass and his, then raised it in toast. “Thank you for joining me.”

They clinked glasses, and she took a sip. She didn’t begin to know wine—she purchased based on price, in general—but liked the taste of whatever he’d selected. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

“It’s up to you. There are any number of restaurants within walking distance. Or”—his eyes lit with heat—“there’s always room service.”

She flushed, instantly aroused. She’d been the one to proposition him on Friday night, and yesterday, she’d asked if he’d put out, but the idea that they’d skip the whole dinner in a public restaurant dance and go straight to his suite was…deliciously wicked.

And maybe a little scary.

She hadn’t told Kendall where she was going, and definitely hadn’t said who she was meeting. Kendall could very well know who her date was, and she didnotwant to think about Kendall telling Brent she was seeing someone she’d met at the party.

She didn’t want to think about Brent or his buddy ever again.

She took another sip of wine, studying him above the rim of the glass. “Does this mean you’ve decided to put out?”

He grinned. “Not at all. It means I want to spend time with you. Get to know you as much as you’ll allow. I’m not opposed to fooling around a little bit. But I’m going to make it clear right now, sex is not on the menu. I’m not that easy.” He leaned forward his eyes lit with humor as he tapped his chest. “You want this cow, you’re going to pay for the milk.”

She laughed. “I’m afraid I can’t afford your milk.”

“All it costs is your time.”

“I don’t have an abundance of time, either.”

“But you’re on winter break.”

“I’m supposed to pick up shifts at a coffee shop I worked for over the summer.” Although, the shop was overstaffed with other former employees on break from school and looking for hours.

“How much are you likely to make over break? A grand? Two? I could help you out there.”

“I can’t take your money. What would that make me?”

“Sweetheart, I’m the one who’s refusing to put out unless you pay me with your time.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I think you’re breaking my brain.”

“I highly doubt that. I understand you have an exceptional brain.”

She usually believed that about herself, but right now, she was spinning. She liked this guy. He liked her. He was fun and funny and sexy as hell. All he wanted was to spend time with her, and she trusted him.

And in ten days, he’d be gone. No messy long-term entanglement.

She rose to her feet and picked up her glass and the bottle of wine. “What’s your room number?”

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