And attended Oxford with him. He’s like a brother to me. Let’s circle back though to what really matters. Tit for tat, and we’ve more minutes. He prefers to stay far removed from his family, for good reason. Do you read the papers?”
“Not consistently anymore. Before you think you need to fill me in. I’m more than aware and weary of Wolf News .”
“Spirited. That’s good. His family is typical. They want an heir. Conrad wants his freedom. An impasse is brewing. I prefer not to go full-on gossip during chance meetings, but his family broke the story that threw him under the bus. If you’re interested in Conrad, then read between the lines. Nothing with him is what it seems. Now, what about you? Quid pro quo. Love, that dress is divine.”
She looked down, having forgotten about her costume. She brought her hands up to her waist and lightly fingered the embroidered bodice. “From the closet of your country. Elizabeth Woodville.”
His blond eyebrows drew upward. “As in, one of the queen’s actual gowns?” There was a trace of incredulous laughter in his tone.
Heat flared across her cheeks. She blurted out, “Yes. See at the back of the neckline? Her crown and name are embroidered. An absolute treasure.” The bell rang before she could share it was a rental.
Louis extended his palm. “The dress pales in comparison to you. A quote I heard earlier from a friend.” He stared back at her.
“Thank you. I enjoyed talking.” He lifted her hand, and lightly kissed her knuckles.
Her mind somersaulted at what Louis had shared. He smiled, rose, and moved to another seat according to the rules. A shadow crossed over the table. Familiar in shape, and her heart beat furiously. Frozen, she didn’t dare train her gaze upward.
“Louis and I have crossed many bridges.” Her whole body clenched at the sight of Conrad lowering himself onto the chair across from her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I want you. Tonight. What will it take to have you naked? Upstairs.” He wrote his name on every line down her dating form, then pushed it and the pen across the table.
She went to rise, unsure why his suggestion rocked her reporter world on its ear. She couldn’t disappear upstairs with a man. One she’d just met. Speed dating took on a whole new dimension. “You’re mistaken. If you think I…we—”
“Oh, sweetheart, I not only think, I damn well know we can. I’ve booked a room. Isn’t that what this exclusive club is all about? Anonymity. Or is that all a ruse to get clients?” His stare drilled in her, and his deep voice held a challenge.
“No. Never.” She swallowed at the conundrum he so aptly presented. “Skip the insinuation that the Downtown Den is deceitful. The agreement couples—people sign is airtight. Nothing escapes. Staff are prevented from discussing what happens. Do you know that quite a few people are helped by the services offered? For shifters in need.” Her eyes stung. She couldn’t understand why the idea of two lonely people connecting choked the sense out of her.
“I spoke with Tristen.” He took hold of her hands. The contact with his skin released an electrical spark. His fingers tugging on her knuckles sent a jolt of rippling pleasure up her arms, colliding with an aching need in her chest.
“You did what?” she asked, as though uncertain of what he’d meant.
“It’s cool, sweetheart. I asked about how to access the room I had waiting. There’s a back staircase. Down the hallway. We don’t have to leave together. I’m not into compromising your position here. I want you. I know you’re interested. What’s the point in waiting?”
“You’re too full of yourself for words.” The bell rang. She settled back in her chair, expecting him to say goodbye and do what? She couldn’t think that far ahead. A man approached the table.
Conrad looked up. “Sorry, mate, this one is taken.”
“I thought you were here before?” The man leaned down.
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland