Page 497 of Rock Me All Night
"No."
"What if I have a surprise for you?" I do. I can't believe I've managed to keep it a secret the last few days.
"Oh, you're after a quid pro quo, are you?" He pulls me out of the gallery, onto the quiet Beverly Hills street. "Maybe if you go first..."
My cheeks flush. I know he'll love it, but I'm still nervous. "Has to be at home."
He leads me to me to the neighborhood around the corner. His red sports car is parked in front of some several-million-dollar mansion. It's a nice place. Too nice, as Hazel would say.
Tom pulls the passenger's door open. "Then my surprise first. You'll have to wait."
"You're a tease."
He slides into the driver's seat and turns the car on. "You keep talking like that, and I'll get ideas, kid."
* * *
Tom doesn't drivetowards his place in Hollywood. He goes west.
The top is down. The cold air sends goosebumps up and down my arms. But it's worth it for the view of the sky. The stars come into focus the further we get from the center of the city. By the time we're in Venice Beach, the sky is filled with them.
"Where are we going?" I ask. "Your place is in the other direction."
"Is it?"
I turn towards Tom to take in every ounce of affection in his expression. "You're up to something, Mr. Steele."
"Not yet." He winks. "But soon."
Okay. It's a surprise. Something tells me it's an amazing surprise.
After five minutes driving city streets, we pull into an eclectic neighborhood. Into the driveway of a house on the beach.
It's actually on the beach. The backyard is sand.
My heartbeat picks up. We're staying in a house on the beach? There are a lot of ways this can go, and they're all amazing.
Tom turns the car off. He holds up his key ring, showing off one key in particular. It's shiny. New.
This place is gorgeous on the outside—very modern, all sharp corners and glass. Big white window shades provide plenty of privacy. If privacy is what we want. If not, well... it has quite the potential for showing off.
It's just as beautiful and modern inside. The den has all sorts of options for seating or screwing. A couch. A rug. An armchair. Wait. That's Tom's armchair, the one that is usually in his bedroom.
Huh.
He's smiling wide. Proud. Excited.
"That's your chair." I scan the room again. It's flashy and classic at once. There's only one possibility. "This is your new place? But... when did you move? I saw you two days ago." The gallery opening has kept me busy.
"It's our new place." He pulls another key ring from his pocket and hands it to me.
"What about Pete?"
"He has a mansion to himself. Don't think he's complaining."
My fingers curl around the key. "Our new place?"
He nods. "You like it?"
