Chapter 5
Deacon waited at the round table in the suite’s dining alcove, a more intimate setting than the large live edge table, already seated with his hands loosely clasped before him and his attention split between the city lights winking through the window and the silver-domed cloches that hid the room service feast beneath.
The dimmed lights in the sconces surrounding the room gave the area a chilled vibe.
Casual. But right now, he felt anything but.
His head lifted at the sound of bare feet on hardwood.
What he saw stole his breath. Out of the wardrobe he’d had sent up, she’d chosen the Good American soft denim jeans that Sonja, the in-house seamstress, had suggested that were apparently four sizes fits all and a soft blue cashmere sweater that fell off her shoulder, revealing the strap of the lace bralette from La Perla Sonja had selected, which made him assume she was wearing the matching underwear, but he was going to try very hard not to think about, otherwise he would be very hard.
Jen glanced down as she nervously ran her hand along the hem of the sweater. “Is this… is someone going to be upset that I’m in their clothes?”
“Someone?” he repeated, not sure who she was referring to.
“I’m assuming this is your girlfriend’s or sister’s or—”
“I had them sent up.”
Her head lifted. “Sent up?”
“From downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” she repeated as if she didn’t believe him.
“There are boutiques downstairs in the hotel.” He’d take her down there to prove it, but he didn’t want to run into staff.
He stood and walked to the trash where he’d thrown away the tags he’d taken off the clothes and handed them to her. He hadn’t wanted her to see the prices, he thought that was tacky, but her thinking they were another woman’s was even tackier.
She looked down at them and then back up again. “How did you know my sizes?”
“It was…yeah, I just…” How did he explain that he’d asked Sonja to look at the security footage of her arriving and in the elevator? And that she was so good at her job, she’d been able to tell? “I guessed,” he lied.
“Hmm.” She smiled and lowered down onto the seat nearest to her, looking slightly overwhelmed. “I don’t know if that’s creepy or not.”
“If I get a vote, I vote not.” In hopes to distract her with food, he quickly removed the cloches nearest to her, then continued. He’d basically ordered one of everything on the menu. Whatever was leftover would be donated to the food bank, just like the excess food at the memorial today had been.
“Holy shit.” Her eyes grew to the size of the cloches.
“I wasn’t sure what would sound good to you.”
“This is giving Edward Lewis.” She fanned her arm over the table as her eyes lit up at the coq au vin. He lifted the plate, and she nodded, so he set it in front of her. He poured a glass of Pinot Noir, which paired beautifully with the slow-roasted chicken dish, and set it beside her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Deacon sat and began to eat his Wagyu ribeye. “Edward Lewis?” he repeated, not catching the reference.
“Richard Gere in Pretty Woman, he orders a lavish breakfast for Julia Roberts because he doesn’t know her preferences.”
“Ahh.” He’d only seen that movie once and that wasn’t the part that jumped out in his memory. The piano scene, now that made an impression.
“Which would make me a prostitute in this scenario.” A forced smile spread on Jen’s face. “If only James could see me now.”
Deacon had a lot of things he wanted to say about her husband, but he thought it best not to say anything, so he didn’t say anything at all.
“I hate that you heard him say those things.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t want you to think that I’m…I don’t know...that…I would—”
“Believe me, when I look at you, I want to do…I think of very, very dirty things I want to do to you.”
Deacon’s cock jumped in his pants when he saw her eyes light up at him, saying he wanted to do very, very dirty things to her. It was a mix of innocence and sensuality that was absolutely irresistible to him.
“Oh.” A slow smile spread across her face.
One that made his chest and his pants tight.
She cut her chicken and then looked back up at him.
“That’s good to know, but I was going to say I wouldn’t normally let a man speak to me like that.
” She picked up her chicken with her fork.
“But please, tell me more about these very, very dirty things you want to do to me.” She put the bite of chicken in her mouth and began to chew.
Fuck. He saw the look in her eyes, he knew that she thought she wanted to hear what he wanted to do to her, but if he actually said the things he wanted to do to her, he wasn’t sure she’d actually want to hear them.
“I’m not sure that’s dinner talk. If you still want to hear them after dinner and dessert, I’d be more than happy to share that with you.”
He wasn’t sure if he’d just fucked himself, no pun intended, out of a very good night, but he also didn’t want her to do anything, even if it was just a little bit of dirty talk, or dirty listening, that she would regret.
Instead of getting shy or showing even a glimmer of retreat, she met his stare with a sparkle of challenge and negotiated. “I think it’s definitely dessert talk.”
“Deal.”
His pants grew uncomfortably tight. His private life had been non-existent since he lost Kristen.
They were only casually seeing each other when she got pregnant, then they got married and didn’t have sex because her pregnancy was difficult.
As bad as it sounded, if they hadn’t had Tabby, the relationship wouldn’t have ever developed past the casual stage.
He liked Kristen, and loved her as a person, but he’d never been in love with her, and their compatibility in the intimacy department wasn’t aligned.
He had a gut feeling that would not be an issue with the woman seated across from him.
Jen took a bite, and her eyes closed as a deep sound of appreciation radiated from her core. When she opened them, she found him staring at her, and he felt caught. Caught admiring the pleasure on her face.
“This food is…I’ve always wanted to stay at The St. Claire, any of them, but I’ve never had a reason to indulge. I’m guessing you stay here often.”
“It’s not my first time, no.”
Her phone rang, and her eyes darted to check it. When he saw her face, he knew it was not her ex. “Oh, sorry, I need to, um, take this. My daughter is in California with her dad.”
She stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her back faced him and he took a moment to admire he long blonde hair and petite frame. The way her entire body seemed to listen as she held the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Peanut, how are…No! Oh my gosh… When? Oh no! Really? He did? Oh no. She didn’t. Seriously? That’s…oh no…but didn’t you say…you did…okay…if you just…no, I didn’t say…Okay. No, I know. She did? Did he? Okay…I love you more!”
When she hung up the phone, she turned back around, walked back to the table, lowered herself down, and cut up her chicken as if the entire conversation hadn’t just occurred.
“Everything okay?” he ventured to ask.
She nodded as she picked up a piece of chicken with her fork. “Oh yeah, just getting the recap on the latest episode of The Days of Thirteen-Year-Olds’ Lives.”
He grinned. “I have all that to look forward to.”
“Yes, you do.” She smiled the smile that he was sure might just end him. “Can I ask you something? Personal?”
As long as it’s not my name.
“Yes.”
“What happened to your daughter’s mom?”
“There were complications during childbirth. Or I guess right after.”
Jen’s face crumbled. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. She had a heart condition that she’d had her whole life but was undiagnosed. Because of that, I had my daughter tested, she has the same condition. Thankfully, she’s been treated since birth, so they caught it early.”
Her phone vibrated on the table, and she glanced down at it, her eyes blinked slowly.
“Is that your ex?” Deacon asked.
She nodded.
“Why don’t you just block him?”
“I can't block him,” she immediately responded before she tilted her head. “Wait, can I?”
“What are the reasons you can’t block him?”
“I was going to say in case there are any issues with Blake, but she’s in California with her dad. I should take him off my Find My Friends, too,” she said, he wasn’t sure if it was to herself or to him.
“That’s how he knew you were at the bar?”
She nodded as her screen lit up again and she turned around so he could see it.
“And he knows I’m here, He texted, Of course, you’re at The St. Claire—”
“Block him,” Deacon cut her off.
The last thing he needed tonight was her ex revealing his identity. She smiled and tapped a few times on her screen. When she set her phone down, she took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded as his phone rang. He wanted to ignore it, but couldn’t. It was Mikayla Parsons. She had been his father’s right-hand for the past few years. She didn’t call for no reason, which is why her phone number was one of the few programmed to ring through.
“I’m sorry, I have to take this.”
“Yeah, no worries.”
He stood and walked to the office as he answered the phone. Out of habit, he started off by saying his normal greeting but stopped himself midway. "This is De…Hello.”
He didn’t know why he was being so secretive about who he was.
It’s not like he was Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne and she was going to find out he was Batman or Superman.
All that was going to happen was that she would know a lot of information about him he had zero control over.
And probably have an opinion about him attached to that information.
Tomorrow, he would tell her who he was. Tonight, however, there was magic in the air, and he didn’t want to spoil it.
Or maybe it wasn’t even about her. Maybe he was just being selfish. Maybe he just wanted one night where he wasn’t Deacon St. Claire.