Page 24 of Roots of the Wicked

Chapter Thirteen

Chase

When my secretary placed a letter from Jax on my desk, I forgot all else existed. The letter was a physical representation that she had been thinking about me. Whether those thoughts were positive or negative was a mystery she had folded between thin sheets of paper. Who sent letters anymore anyway? It was a nice old-fashioned touch I appreciated, the notion brightening my smile.

I resisted my urges to contact Jax by studying the macroeconomic benefits from increasing infrastructure investments. Studying hadn’t worked. I wanted Jax, and now knew it wasn’t just sexual chemistry fueling my need for her. Was I on the verge of an unhealthy obsession with a woman I barely knew?

After a moment, I swiped the letter opener through her letter. A smile surfaced as I scanned her neat handwritten words. She possessed the penmanship of a serial killer—neat, clean, and precise. It wasn’t a letter but a dinner invite.

The date was set for me to meet her for dinner at seven tomorrow night. I had eaten at the restaurant on several occasions. It was called, The Place, located in Greenwich Village, it sat proudly across the street from the Minetta Tavern, and was known for serving the most exquisite seafood in the area. The smile Jax’s invite had put on my face remained for the rest of the day.

***

The drive along MacDougal Street was stop and go. My driver, Paul, reached the restaurant at ten to seven. From the outside, The Place appeared deserted and not open for business. Surrounding restaurants and shopping plazas buzzed with the energetic movement of the city as it would any normal Saturday night.

We had been careful to avoid any tails on the drive over and had used my most inconspicuous vehicle, a dark gray Silverado truck. I scanned the area several times after I exited my truck, hiked the short distance along the pavement, and approached the closed double doors. The heavy wood sprang open at my approach, and I was greeted immediately.

“Good evening, Mr. Taylorson. Allow me to escort you to your table.”

“Thank you.” I scanned the empty restaurant.

“Where is every…” My words trailed off when she filled my view. The sight of her awakened my senses, coated them with a spice I had never had the pleasure of tasting or smelling.

Jax was beautiful. An encyclopedia of descriptions wasn’t enough to define the magnetic depth of her. Her skin shimmered against the light, giving it a reason to exist. The world around her bent to her movement, angling to stay trapped in her glow. She was dressed in a classic white jumpsuit that showcased the gorgeous body that had invaded my unconscious and waking dreams.

She paired the outfit with gold heels that peeked from under the wide flowing legs of her jumpsuit. The chest area dipped low, allowing me to see another piece of the tattoo, which was as much a turn-on as she was.

“You look perfect,” the compliment breezed out softly.

“Thank you. You look wonderful yourself,” she replied in a smooth, even tone. She stepped closer, leaving only a few inches between us before she placed a light kiss against my cheek.

She pressed her fingers to my lips to stop me from returning a kiss, same as she had done in the bathroom. I nipped at her fingers playfully, causing her to yank them away with a wide smile. My raging curiosity kept me anxious to see how this night would turn out, so I played along, for now.

My eyes only had one setting, on her, as she sat in front of me. Our table was the only one dressed in a snow white tablecloth and set to perfection with serving dishes, glasses, and silverware set for at least three courses.

“Are we the only people here?” I gave the place another once-over. Jazzy instrumental music mingled with the cool breeze sweeping through the space. A dim glow poured from the recessed lights in the ceiling and a flickering candle set in crystal, sat in the center of our table.

“Yes. We’re the only guests tonight. I understand about your privacy, because I value mine as much as you do yours.”

She wanted to respect my privacy. The idea enticed an instant smile. The word respect held a lot of power and in my mind, it meant we were officially dating.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you. Figured we’d start with the lobster bisque, followed by a light garden salad, and the final and main dish of crab stuffed flounder. I pared it with a nice crisp Pinot Grigio to drive the flavor of the dishes.”

She took a sip of her wine, her sexy lips flirting with the rim of the glass as her eyes flashed heat in my direction above the rim. When she sat the glass down, her eyes sparked with a gleam of passion so heavy I stifled a gasp. The sex appeal pouring through her smoldering eyes had me inhaling deep and hard, in an attempt to calm my frenzied nerves. How could one look elicit such a strong reaction? Only she was capable of luring such appeal from me.

“Dessert comes later,” she said, reading my reaction. Pure seduction dripped off her tone and shot to my dick.

She was seducing me, and I liked it.

“How did you know what I enjoy eating? You’ve ordered one of my favorite meals,” I questioned, aiming to diffuse the sexual tension she’d shaken loose.

“I hacked into your phone.” Her matter-of-fact tone threw me.

My mouth fell open, surprised at first, but remembering what she did for a living.

“So, Chase…” a long pause followed.

Thankfully, the waiter appeared with our starter dishes as I was reluctant to face what she might have found in my phone. He placed my lobster bisque before me, before placing hers. Known for being the pillar of calm and restraint, I was man enough to admit that I definitely lost my control with her in that public restroom. However, her resistance wouldn’t allow me to hang on to the tiny hints of apprehension that climbed into my head.

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