“I think I answered that question before. Too young for you, Mr Spencer.” I smile over at him.
“Well, I’m twenty-five,” he says seriously. “With thirteen years’ experience.”
I do the maths. He’s thirty-eight.
“And I’m twenty-four… with no experience.”
His eyes twinkle with delight. Maybe he thought I was younger than that.
We sip our drinks in an uncomfortable silence, once again.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
He frowns as he tries to articulate himself. “And you’re not secretly in love with your bodyguard?”
“Certainly not. You’ve been watching too many movies, Mr Spencer.” I laugh.
He puts his hand on his chest, faking his relief. “That’s good to hear. I can’t compete with bodyguards and shit like that.” He winks at me. “Although I do practice karate.”
We both chuckle and our eyes linger on each other’s. There is this mutual affection between us. For me, it’s that he speaks so unguarded, as though he already knows me, but maybe it’s just all his experience with women that make him this way. He’s not nervous around me like most men, and his confidence is very attractive.
I would give anything to know what’s on his mind.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“That depends.” He leans forward.
“On what?”
“I’m running a risk assessment in my mind as to whether I’m going to get beaten to a pulp if I kiss you.”
I smile bashfully.
It would be worth it.
The moment is broken by the waiter returning with our bottle of wine. He pops the cork and pours a little into both our wineglasses.
“Thank you.” I take a sip. “Hmm.” I eye the glass of burgundy liquid. “That’s nice.”
Spencer holds his glass in the air. “A toast.”
“To what?” I ask.
His eyes hold mine. “Our first date.”
I smile softly.
“May there be many more,” he whispers darkly, clinking his glass to mine before he takes a sip. “You know I wrote your name in my diary on Monday morning.”
I smile. “Why?’
“Because when I want something, I write it down.” He smirks.
I giggle. “That not at all creepy.”
He chuckles.
I take a mouthful of wine and think for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why would you drive all the way out here to see me without calling first?”
“Because I knew if I called you that you wouldn’t want to see me.”
His eyes drop to my lips, and then back up to my eyes with a hunger I haven’t felt before. The air between us becomes electric. God, the way he looks at me sets me on fire.
“Has someone hurt you in the past?” he asks.
I stare at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Physically, has someone hurt you?”
“What? No.” I frown. “Why would you say that?”
“You seemed frightened of me on Saturday night.”
I drop my head in embarrassment. I know he means when I felt his erection. It terrified me if I’m honest, and I hate that he sensed it.
“I didn’t know where my father’s guards were,” I whisper. “I don’t do that sort of thing in public.”
His eyes hold mine, and he reaches over the table to take my hand in his. “What about in private, Charlotte? What sort of thing do you do in private?”
We stare at each other for a moment. What can I say here without sounding promiscuous? “Private things,” I whisper.
“I should like to spend time with you in private sometime.”
I sit back, affronted by his gall. “Are you here simply for sex, Mr Spencer?”
He frowns. “Stop calling me that.”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you call me that when you are pushing me away.”
“I’m merely asking you a question. There was no pushing involved.”
“I’m attracted to you, yes.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“Am I here only for sex? No. Have I wondered what it would be like to have intimate relations with you? Yes.”
Intimate relations.
My breath catches as I stare at him. He is the first man in my entire life who has had the guts to come onto me, and I find myself fighting a smile. “Why?”
“You’re beautiful and different than most women.”
“So, you only pursue beautiful women?” I ask. “I’m curious as to what makes a man like you tick, that’s all.” I shrug, hoping that I haven’t just crossed a line.
He smiles and takes my hand over the table again. “Ask me anything you want. I have nothing to hide. I’m very honest. Perhaps too honest.”
“Then do you only date beautiful women?” I ask again. God, how did we get onto this subject?
“I only date women that are beautiful to me.” He frowns as he thinks for a moment. “Although lately my tastes have become very eclectic.”
“How so?”
“Being beautiful and nothing else doesn’t do it for me anymore.” He picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips. I feel the effect of it all the way to my toes.
I stare at him, lost for words, but with so much to say.
“You, for example,” he continues. “The things that attracted me to you have kept me awake at night all week.”
“Such as?”
“You’re innately feminine. You have a confident air about you, but then...” He pauses. “When I touched you, you were frightened of me.”
I stare at him, heart fluttering and words lost.
“I’m guessing you are very intelligent and articulate, but you’re kept in an ivory palace by your brother so that men can’t get to you, which means you definitely don’t sleep around.”
How does he know this?
“I believe that you will probably end up marrying someone of your family’s choosing who is extremely wealthy, and you’ll live a life of luxury—one that is expected of you.”
I sit back in my chair, appalled by his assumptions… mainly because they are true.
“This is what you’ve been thinking about all week?” I sip my wine. “And here I was thinking that you were imagining how to pleasure me during those intimate relations you spoke of.” I roll my eyes in disgust. “You’re a disappointment, Spencer Jones.”
He laughs, deep and loud, and I feel it all the way through my bones. “I don’t need to imagine how to please you in bed. I know how to do that, without a doubt.”
Oh, I like this guy, he’s so different than anyone I’ve ever met before.
“Well, you’re wrong about one thing,” I say. “If I ever choose to marry, I’m marrying for love and my family will have nothing to do with it. And what about you, Spencer? Why are you single at the age of thirty-eight?”
He smiles and leans back in his chair. “Now, that is the million-dollar question. I could tell you some random bullshit about not finding the right girl.”
“Bullshit?”
He shrugs. “I have found the right girl. Over and over, I’ve found the right girl.”
“But?” That wasn’t the answer I was expecting at all.
“I haven’t found anyone who is worth fighting myself over.”
“Fighting yourself?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s hard to explain.”
I sit forward in my seat, fascinated by the man in front of me. “Try.”
He smiles a slow, sexy smile, and he sips his wine, his dark eyes holding mine. “This is not the conversation I imagined us having tonight.”
“Likewise.” I smile. This conversation is refreshingly honest.
He sighs softly. “I love women, I love sex, and I love my independence.”
I choose not to respond.
“And I am not in the business of hurting people, so I don’t risk it.”
“Risk it?”
“I couldn’t be with someone, be in love, and then be unfaithful. It’s just not who I am. Hence why I’ve chosen not to be with just one woman thus far.”
“But you have friends with benefits?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you want with me?”
A trace of a frown crosses his face. “Surprisingly… no.”
“What do you want from me then?”
He stares at me. “That’s what I’m here trying to work out.”
Our meal arrives, and we begin to eat in silence. He seems comfortable, but my mind is racing. What the hell is this date about? What does he want from me? For a long time, I eat in silence as I troll through my brain for a logical answer…
And then I get it.