I don’t understand the first thing about Jasper, that much is clear.

We move through the salad course and he asks me more about what it was like growing up. “Very luxe.” I give him a sage glance, and he laughs. “We had a one-bedroom in the Bronx, and we all shared the bedroom.”

“We all…”

“My sister Evie, my mom, and me.”

“You have a sister? Any brothers?”

“Yes, and no. It was the two of us. My dad didn’t stick around long enough for me to remember anything about him.”

“Wow.”

“Very courageous. A real man’s man.” More bitterness than I’d intended creeps into my tone, and I’m not sure why. “Your father seems pretty…involved.”

“I can’t complain about him. Sometimes I wonder what he’s looking for.”

“In terms of…”

A flash of frustration crosses Jasper’s face. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Everything is Pace, Inc. for him.”

“Like it is for you?”

His blue eyes dance. “I’m here with you—doesn’t that tell you anything?”

“It tells me you’re honoring the terms of the deal.”

Jasper leans back for the waiter—whose name I learned is Conrad—to slide small bowls of what turns out to be the best butternut squash soup I’ve ever had. “My father would never have made a deal that took up this much of his evening.”

So that’s where he gets some of his relentless attitude from. It’s the way it’s always been.

“What about your mother?”

Jasper’s face darkens. “What about her?”

I need to tread carefully. “Do you see her often?” I’m half-expecting him to say that she’s dead. 

“Almost never.”

A heavy silence lingers between us then, and I lift another spoonful of butternut squash soup to my lips. It’s so delicious that I almost forget I’ve tripped some unseen wire in the conversation.

Right up until Jasper continues.

“She spends most of her time traveling in Europe.”

“And the rest of it?”

“God knows.”

I take a sip of wine. “We don’t need to talk about this if—”

Jasper waves me off. “It’s not a big deal. She had an affair when I was thirteen and my parents divorced shortly after. My dad didn’t even deny her alimony, which she took every two weeks until she remarried when I was in college. That guy’s dead now—heart attack—but she never gave up her traveling lifestyle.”

“My mother retired last summer.”

A flicker of relief crosses his face. “What did she do?”

“She taught elementary school.”

Jasper makes a face. “I can’t imagine.”

“I can’t either. But it’s what she wanted to do. Half the reason we had no money for stretches of time growing up was because she went back to school to get a better job.”

“And while she was in school, you were—what, hunched over a sewing machine in some closet somewhere, making a fortune?”

I laugh. “It wasn’t a fortune at first, and I didn’t work in a closet. I worked in our front hallway.”

“Making…”

“Clothes.” He gives me a look. “I bought remnants from the fabric shops and made these clothes for the women who exercised in the neighborhood. They used to walk around the block, or around the park. If one of them had a baby they’d take the stroller, too. But they wanted to look cool while they did it, and nobody was making clothes like that at the time, with different patterns and colors. Everything I made was, obviously, a unique piece.”

“None of your lines now have wild colors.”

I grin at him, and he looks down at his soup. “You caught me. I browsed your website.”

“You had no choice. What if you were entering some kind of weird sex treaty with some kind of fashion serial killer? That has to come through in their designs.”

Jasper’s gaze is piercing. “It’s hardly a weird sex treaty.”

“Isn’t it?”

“We haven’t had sex yet,” he reminds me. I pretend to be absorbed in another spoonful of soup, but the turn this conversation has taken has me off-balance again, slick between my legs and slightly lightheaded. Sex with Jasper is guaranteed to be mind-blowing. The way he moves in his clothes, the way his grasp is powerful even when he’s holding my hand, makes me certain of it.

“Yet.” My voice is too soft, and I clear my throat. We’re in Jasper’s penthouse, in his dining room, which is empty except for the two of us and occasionally Conrad. Yet could end at any moment, and my entire body is buzzing with the possibility. Images flash one by one into my mind: my own knuckles white on the edge of the table. My bare knees against the hardwood floor. The smooth leather of the wingback chair meeting my bare skin. We might be in the middle of dinner right now, but that doesn’t mean...

Conrad swoops in, clearing the empty bowls of soup and replacing them with the main course: steak so tender and perfect that it must have cost a fortune. Every bite is a little taste of paradise.

Jasper goes back to asking me first-date questions, but that doesn’t make my heart beat any slower.

“Have you been dating for long?”

I laugh out loud, my fork clanging against the edge of my plate. “This is not dating.” 

His eyes sparkle. “I don’t think you’d have entered into this with me if you were engaged, or seeing someone seriously.” He cocks his head to the side, considering me for a long moment. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you would.”

“I wouldn’t.” The memory of Jason’s idiotic face swims up in my memory.

“Whoa. Is the steak not up to par?”

“No, that’s not—the steak is probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. You reminded me of—of the last relationship I was in.”

“I take it things didn’t end well.”

“You could say that.”

By the time our plates are empty and Conrad is carrying them quickly back to the kitchen, I assume, my heart is back to hammering against my rib cage. And when Jasper stands up and offers me his hand, I take a big breath before I can bring myself to stand up. 

“There was something I was going to suggest,” I say to break the silence while we walk back out toward the living room. Where is his bedroom from here? “I think you should come with me to another function I’m invited to. It’s tomorrow night.”

Jasper’s eyes go wide. “A public function?”

“Yes.”

I’m so busy waiting for his reply that it takes me a moment to realize he’s taken me right back to the front door, that he’s handing me my purse, that he’s leaning in to kiss me on the forehead.

When he steps back, I know I’m giving him a bewildered look. “I’m leaving?”

“Dinner was wonderful, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but—” I snap my mouth closed. “Yes.” 

He presses the button for the elevator, and the doors slide open. “I’ll check my schedule for tomorrow.”

Then they’re sliding shut again, me on the other side, and Jasper’s face disappears from view.