CHAPTER SIX
MARNIE
MY HEART JACKHAMMERS IN MY chest and blood whooshes in my ears, to the point it’s so loud, I can’t hear myself think. Waiting in the park ‘n’ ride as Z instructed, I pull the visor down to make sure my gold filigree mask is on perfectly, and I run my finger under my bottom lip to clean up the edges of my blood red lipstick. My palms run over the blond wig I’m wearing, gently pressing down to make sure it doesn’t move. Ashley suggested I wear it along with using “May” to conceal my identity and to spice up the evening, but now I’m questioning the decision.
“What am I doing?” I ask myself as doubt sets in. “This is crazy, meeting somebody I’ve never met for a dinner.” A small voice in the back of my head whispers it’s a blind date and people do it all the time. “Well, voice in my head, do they pay for sex?” I snap the visor shut and shake my head. I brush my hands down my off-the-shoulder sapphire gown, smoothing out a few small wrinkles. It’s made of a jersey material that’s soft and flows with my body movement. Flashes of light in my side mirror startle me, and a hand flies to my chest, calming my racing heart. The vehicle pulls up and dwarfs my compact car; it’s black and the Yukon insignia is affixed to the door. I take a deep breath while I watch an unnaturally tall and muscular man step out of the driver side and walk to my car.
The giant stops at my door and taps on my window, and I roll it down a sliver. “Excuse me, miss, are you May?” The man’s gravel voice rumbles.
I nod quickly and ask, “Are you Frank, the ex-military chauffeur?”
His chuckle is thick. “I see Z warned you about me, and, yes, I am Frank. May I escort you to your ride?” I gather my purse and shawl while Frank opens my door for me. He extends his hand, allowing mine to slide into his. He gently pulls as I slide out my car. He closes my driver door and stalks to the Yukon and opens the passenger door.
“May, grab the bar here and step into the vehicle,” he orders, and I do what he says and find it’s easier to get in that way than jumping and hoping for the best. He closes the door and circles around to the driver side and gets in.
The ride to the restaurant is spent in silence. I stare out into the night, watching the street lights zoom past. My hands nervously twist the chain of my purse around my fingers.
“If you keep that up, you’ll end up cutting circulation off.” I jump at the sound of Frank’s voice. He chuckles at my reaction. “Sorry to scare you.”
I glance to him. “No, it’s my fault. This date has me all sorts of nervous and feeling out of place.” I untangle my fingers and lay them on top of my purse.
He nods. “Don’t be, Z is ever the gentleman. I think you and him will hit it off with no problems.” God, I hope he’s right. We turn the corner and the restaurant comes into view, and with that, the anxiety sets in again.
Frank deposits me at the bar, orders me a chocolate martini, and commands that I stay right here until Z comes. I nod my response and turn to see the bartender vigorously shaking the shaker cups. She slides a martini cup over in front of her and pours the drink before swirling chocolate syrup in zig zag patterns and topping it off with a mint leaf. She places the martini in front of me, and I take a sip. The slow burn of the alcohol is covered with the flavor of chocolate. I smile and moan at the delicious flavor.
“I hope that moan was for me,” a guttural voice comes from behind me. Startled, I almost spill my drink onto my dress. After righting the glass, I whip around on the barstool and stare right into a tuxedoed chest. I slowly raise my head to find a tall red head with deep blue eyes behind a black mask who’s wearing a lopsided grin. I’m surrounded by his potent maleness; it’s a heady mixture of musk and fresh-out-of-the-shower, and before I know it, I close my eyes and take a deep inhale.
He chuckles. “Is this seat taken, beautiful?” His gravelly voice causes my nipples to pearl and warmth to flood in my lower belly. I’ve never experienced such a visceral reaction to a man, well, at least since Zayne.
I shake my head.
“Good.”
He sits and orders himself a whiskey sour. I continue to observe him as he takes a drink, watching his Adams apple bob up and down with each swallow. Holy hell, he’s even hot drinking.
“Hi, I’m Z, and please tell me you are May.” His eyes slowly track up and down my body. Fire licks my skin in the wake of his assessment.
I lick my lips and find my voice, “Yes, I’m May,” I whisper. He answers with a large smile, then he clasps my hand and gently kisses my knuckles. Air is sucked out of my lungs as electric tingles surge through my skin.
“Come, let’s go to the table I reserved for us.” He gets up with his drink still in his hand and mine in the other. I follow him, surveying the other patrons enjoying their meals, each wearing a different style mask. I turn my attention back to the man in front of me. His tux is tailored to perfection, draped over his broad shoulders then cut to taper down his waist with the slit of his jacket showing off his sculpted backside.
He halts his steps, and I stumble into his awaiting arms. “Sorry, here is our table.” He sets me up and pulls out a chair, gesturing for me to sit. I do as I’m told, before he moves around the table and settles himself. I peek around and see we are in the back; it’s semi-private with three walls surrounding us. “The French cuisine here is delicious. I wish there was a dish I could recommend to you, but it’s all good,” he offers as he signals the waiter. He orders an expensive wine to start. The waiter brings the wine and menus to look over.
I decide on something safe—a simple Chicken Francaise served over brown rice—and when the waiter returns, I place my order, and Z orders something in perfect French. Astounded, I smile at him and sip my martini.
“I asked for the same thing you are having. I like to practice my French when I have the chance.”
“It was flawless…well, at least, I think it was, but listen to me, I don’t speak a lick of French.” Oh, God, I’m babbling. Now he’s going to think I’m some classless broad, but instead, he gifts me with a magnetic smile.
“I can teach you sometime. I enjoyed the language while in high school and continued through my college years, even spending a semester abroad.” He continues with telling me about his host family and the adventures he had there. He’s charming, funny, and a great story teller.
Soon, our food arrives, and we eat in companionable silence. The chicken is delicious, and the burst of lemon adds a bit of a citrus flavor to it.
Once the waiter relieves us of our plates and refills our wine glasses, I turn and glimpse a band setting up for entertainment. When I return my attention to Z, I find him holding his hand out to me. “Please dance with me. I’m not great, but I would love to have you in my arms.” My cheeks heat up, but I slip my hand into his and fall behind his lead to the dance floor.
The band finishes setting up, and after a fast tuning, the slow melody drifts around us. Z spins me around and brings me back close to his chest. His deep blues bore into me, as if searching for my soul. A glimmer of recognition shimmers in my head, but it’s quickly gone. The band picks up the tempo, and Z whirls me around the dance floor, but never lets my body get far from his. His hands skim up and down my back and arms. He pulls me tightly to him and lowers his head. “That dress is a sin on you,” he whispers in my ear, nipping at my ear lobe. I suck in a breath and grasp his muscular biceps.
“I can feel how your body responds to me—the quick inhale, the flash of goose bumps down your arms every time I touch you. I feel the same way, May.” To drill home his point, his hands slide down to the small of my back and tug me close. Now we are chest to chest, and I can’t mistake the ridges of his erection against my lower abdomen.
I peer up to his eyes and find desire and lust burning bright in them. I shift my attention to the exit behind me. Nibbling on my lip, I make a split-second decision. “Take me to your hotel,” I whisper to him. He halts our dancing and glares down at me. Seconds pass, and my stomach dips, thinking I misread something. Then abruptly, he grabs my hands and hauls me off the dance floor. He rapidly gathers our belongings, and we head to the exit.
Outside, the air has cooled and the humidity has dropped, but a fine sheen of sweat still forms on my arms and chest. Z has his phone to his ear, I’m guessing calling Frank to pick us up. I catch a few words but can’t discern what they are talking about. Soon, the familiar black Yukon pulls up to the curb. Z opens the door and assists me inside.
I get settled as Z climbs inside. He bangs on the separation glass and the car pulls forward.