“Special Forces, mostly reconnaissance.” He didn’t offer any more details but he grinned at me.
“You are not very forthcoming, Mr. Blackstone.”
“If I tell you any more, I’d have to kill you, and that would just blow my promise all to shit.”
“What promise?” I asked innocently.
“That I’m not a serial killer,” he said as he popped a piece of steak into his beautiful mouth and started chewing.
“Thank the gods! The idea of eating a plate of beef with a serial killer would have totally killed this date for me.”
He swallowed his meat and then smiled at me. “Very funny, Miss Bennett. You are a wit.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Blackstone, I try very hard to be.” He disarmed me with his charm so effortlessly I really had to work to keep him on task. Ethan could turn a conversation to his advantage in an instant. “What do you do at your company?”
“Security mostly, for the British government and some private international patrons. Right now we are swamped with the Olympics. With so many people coming from all over into London—especially in our post nine eleven world—it’s a challenge.”
“I bet.”
He pointed at my salad with his knife. “I bring you to the best place in town for a Mayfair steak, and what do you do?” He shook his head at me. “You order a salad.”
I laughed. “It has some steak in it. Anyway, I can’t help it. I don’t like to be predictable.”
“Well you’re very good at being unpredictable, Miss Bennett.” He winked at me and took another bite of his steak.
“Can I ask you a personal question, Ethan?”
“I get the feeling you’re about to,” he said dryly.
I sincerely wanted to know. The idea had been forming in my head for a couple days now. “So, do you—do you collect nudes…or something?” I looked down at my plate.
“No,” he answered immediately, “I was working security for the Andersen gallery that night. There were a few high profile guests and I merely went to make an appearance. I have employees who do the actual on-site work.” He paused. “But I’m very glad I attended because I saw your portrait.” His voice sounded amused. “I wanted it, so I bought it.”
I could feel his eyes calling to me to look at him. I lifted my eyes up.
“And then you walked in, Brynne.”
“Oh…”
“I heard what you and Clarkson said by the way—about me and my hand.” He tapped his ear. “High tech security gadgets in my line of work.”
My fork dropped with a clang and I must have jumped a foot. He grinned and looked smug, and far too sexy to be here with me. I was so mortified I wanted to run out the door. “I am so sorry you heard—”
“Don’t be, Brynne. I try to avoid my hand to get off, especially if there are other, more lovely, options.”
I felt his fingers tug on my chin. I allowed him access and felt my body heat up. Whoa…breathe, Brynne, breathe.
“Like you.” He whispered the rest. “I want the real thing. I want you underneath me. I want to get off with you.” His blue eyes never left mine. He did not let go of my chin either. He held me firm and made me acknowledge his words.
“Why, Ethan?”
His thumb flicked out and brushed my jaw. “Why does anyone want anything? It’s just how I react to you.” His eyes rolled over me and got that smoky look in them. “Come home with me. Be with me tonight, Brynne.”
“Okay.” My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. And just like that I agreed to something that I knew would be life changing. For me, it would be.
The instant the word left my lips I witnessed Ethan close his eyes for just the briefest flicker. And then it was all a flurry of activity and purpose setting the pace from there; everything in sharp contrast to the sensual conversation we’d just been having. Within minutes he closed the bill from our dinner and led me out to his car. Ethan’s firm touch pressed against my back, pushing me forward, taking me away to a place where he could have me. Alone.
Ethan drove us to a gorgeous glass building sitting high above the London skyline of previous centuries, modern but reminiscent of pre-war Britain in an elegant way.