Page 13 of Secret Silver Nights

Monique walked through the door and was immediately grateful for the discipline that allowed her to calmly watch as Niko stood next to a table set for two and continue the steps to meet him. Especially when her insides quivered, her panties instantly moistened and once again the air managed to leave the room. He was handsome. Even a blind woman could see that. But living in L.A. and spending as much time on the beach as her schedule allowed, she saw gorgeous, well-chiseled Adonises all the time. What was it about this man, Monique wondered, that made her lose all semblance of control? It was a trait that had served her well all of her life and now it was as if she couldn’t even spell the word let alone possess an ounce of its attributes. The room was small and intimate, yet in the steps it had taken to reach him she’d been able to steady her breathing and find her tongue.

“Good evening,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thanks again for inviting me to dinner.”

After giving an almost imperceptible nod to the maître d’, Niko enveloped her small, dainty hand in his strong, masculine one before lifting it to his lips for the wispiest of kisses. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Slater.” He stepped away from her and pulled out her chair. “Please.”

She sat, trying very hard not to imagine that she was Cinderella and Niko her prince. “Thank you.”

She lowered her head to place the napkin on her lap. But that didn’t stop her from stealing a couple of discreet glances as he walked over to his chair and sat down. She noticed that he too had changed from the flattering slacks, shirt and pullover that he’d worn at the beauty salon. The navy-colored suit that now graced his body was immaculate and looked so soft that she wanted to squeeze his arm. Not only to touch the fabric but to see if the biceps she’d perceived beneath the cloth was real. In a field dominated by men wearing nice suits, she should have not been bothered in the slightest. But there was something about Niko that made him stand out. It was the combination, she decided, smiling over her glass as she took a sip of water. Looks, brains, money and class mixed with just the right amount of swagger and sex appeal. Lethal. Dangerous. And damned if she didn’t want to go ahead and play with fire, even knowing that there was a strong possibility that she could get burned.

“This is nice,” she said into the silence, as she looked around to keep from connecting with the dark bedroom eyes that gazed upon her. “I didn’t know this room existed.”

“Not many do, unless you’re a lifetime member. My parents have belonged to the club forever, so the children gained entry pretty much by default.”

“How many children are in your family?” Monique eased back against the cushioned chair, thankful that she finally felt that she was in familiar territory—subtle interrogation.

“There are eight of us.” Niko leaned back, as well. “All of us live here in Paradise Cove except for Reginald, whose wife has deep and abiding ties with New Orleans, where they reside, and my youngest brother, Julian, who’s studying in New York.” He took a sip of lemon water. “What about you?”

“One brother, a doctor. He practices at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.”

“A doctor and a lawyer, huh? Your parents must be proud.”

“They are. Both were overachievers and encouraged their children to be the same. Are any of your siblings involved in politics?”

The smooth grin that spread across Niko’s face was enough to make a nun rethink her celibacy. He looked absolutely decadent, Monique imagined, and she would have bet a year’s salary he tasted just as sweet. “Come on, now. You’re an attorney. We’ve both done our homework, scoped out the terrain. If there was another Drake involved in politics, that information would be on the internet, and you would know about it.”

“Which is why I’m sure my brother’s occupation is no surprise. Nothing wrong with including the question in a bit of friendly conversation, is there?” Monique’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked at him, a move that was totally against the game plan. Do not flirt with him, Monique Slater. Do. Not. Flirt! Before this thought could completely make the rounds from her head to the body parts that needed the directive, a giggle had escaped her lips and she’d reached up to place an errant tendril of hair behind her ear.

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