“Howso?”
He leaned down, his lips so close to her neck she felt his breath, soft as a feather, against her skin when hespoke.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking aboutyou.”
It had the air of a true confession, and she was suddenly embarrassed. She had no idea how to handle such an unfamiliarsituation.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said, trying to make light of themoment.
He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Willit?”
She didn’t answer, any response she might have managed stuck somewhere between her mind and mouth, his nearness causing a short circuit in her usually-functioningbrain.
He shook his head like he was disappointed, but his eyes said he was intrigued. “I didn’t thinkso.”
She forced herself to breathe, to expel the scent of his cologne — spicy and expensive, underlaid with wool and a hint of cigar smoke that was surprisingly erotic — in favor of city air that was anything butclean.
“Thank you for bringing it,” she said. “Although… how did you find me here? InBrooklyn?”
She hadn’t had time to change the address on her driver’slicense.
“It’s easy to find someone these days. There are very few things that areprivate.”
Private.
It was just a word, but the way he said it conjured rumpled sheets and curtained beds, parted lips and bareskin.
“I suppose you’reright.”
She waited for him to say goodbye, to head for the car. His gaze lingered on her faceinstead.
“There’s an event Saturday evening,” he said. “I’d like you to accompanyme.”
“Anevent?”
It was next to useless as a stall tactic. If she’d been hoping for more information, for more time to formulate a response, Jack Morgan wasn’t going todeliver.
“Yes,” he said. “The car will be here ateight.”
He was already starting for thecurb.
“I haven’t said yes,” shesaid.
He reached the car and opened the door. “I think we both know that isn’ttrue.”
He stepped inside and closed the door, his face hidden behind the tinted glass, and she knew he was right. She’d said yes — to anything and everything Jack Morgan wanted from her — from the verybeginning.