Padding the announcement for you," he said. "When you tell them about our engagement, they'll have to believe we were swept up."
She hummed. He had no idea what that meant. He'd bet she had noises for everything. When she was being thoughtful or when she was annoyed. When she was turned on. It'd been a while since he bothered to notice such subtleties with the women he was with. Brief as he was with them, there hadn't been a need.
You've been missing out.
The thought sent the subtlest pang of regret through him. After he'd read Gwyneth wrong—after she'd sold him out for another man—he'd vowed to keep things surface for his heart's and his pride's sake. The idea that he'd robbed himself of experiences in the process didn't settle well.
Not at all.
"I meant it was risky because you implied I might not make it home."
"Well it could be a long evening."
She batted made-up eyes at him and her red lips flinched into a reluctant smile. A surge of attraction shocked his veins. There was something about Merina beyond her physical features that made his libido sit up and beg.
Typically with his past dates, the surge of attraction came later, after he had her clothes off. With Merina, the anticipation of having her clothes off fueled his want.
Keeping things surface was easier in the long run—less messy. So why, in Merina's case, was he looking forward to getting dirty?
"What are you smiling about?"
"Nothing." He whipped his red Ferrari into the valet station. Flashy and just what they needed to snag the attention of the paparazzi. The media thought they could run his and Merina's romance into the dirt, but Reese had a secret weapon. He could ooze charm when necessary. He'd bet Merina could call up her own battery of flirting if needed. More than charming her, though, he found himself looking forward to surprising her.
She sat, hands in her lap, while he came around to her side of the car. Penelope had hammered dents into his ego when she berated him for not touching Merina in the right way. He knew how to treat a woman. It was just that usually the woman on his arm was all over him. Merina wasn't that way. But tonight they were playing things for the cameras. As proven when she didn't shove her way from the car without waiting for him.
Reese opened her door and offered a hand. Merina took it, sliding her softer palm against his, and awareness flooded his veins. Her willingly coming to him was another plus to the evening.
"Darling," he said, laying it on thick.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, making the red glisten. She climbed from the car and looped her arm with his. Together they walked in, their eyes peeled for anyone who pointed a cell phone in their direction.
* * *
Reese walked in like he owned the place. The thought alarmed her. What if he did own the place? Totally possible.
He swept her through the neon lights and fog to a semiprivate upper deck. From here, they could see and be seen, which was ideal. Penelope had made it clear they'd better shake off their business-only reputation, and fast. Merina had come ready to play hardball.
She'd asked him here because she felt at home at Posh. The music wasn't so loud that they couldn't talk but loud enough that they wouldn't be overheard.
A cushy couch overlooking the swarm below perched at the edge of a shelflike overhang, surrounded by a glass wall. Up here, with a personal waiter and view of the DJ who was suspended over the center of the bar, she got a glimpse of what it was like to be Reese Crane.
Living the good life high above his minions, his every whim being catered to. She tried to curl her lip at the treatment but couldn't. Being on his arm had its perks. She was going to enjoy them.
"Downstairs, getting to the bartender is a test of endurance and Midwest manners," Merina told him as she watched men attempt to draw the bartenders' attention while women in low-cut tops were served first. "You could learn a thing or two from the people down there."
"That's why I have you." His voice held no challenge, just commanding presence and smooth delivery. Like he meant it. Maybe he did. She was beginning to think she could learn a thing or two from him as well.
Their waiter, flamboyantly dressed in short shorts, a cropped hot pink top, and slatted sunglasses, returned with their drink order. He passed down her cosmopolitan and Reese's scotch. "Anything else, beautiful people?"
"No, thanks, Kevin." Merina winked and he shot his finger like a gun.
"You bet, Mer."
He swayed away and Reese sipped his drink while she waited for his judgment. None came.
"How's your stereotypically feminine cocktail?"
Ah, there it was.
"Fruity. How's your exhaustingly cliché manly drink?"
He took a long draw from the glass, the whiskey rolling over his tongue, his throat bobbing in the most irritatingly tantalizing way as he swallowed.
"It's always what I expect," he said over the music. He dipped his chin at her cocktail. "Yours is to the discretion and capabilities of the bartender. Mine never wavers."
"Do you enjoy getting what you expect, Crane?" She cocked her head. "The expected can be boring."
His features darkened, and in those shadows she saw a man who'd experienced the unexpected once upon a time, and it bit him in the ass. Then the shadows receded and that cocksure, bored mask she'd grown used to slid into place.
What are you hiding, Reese Crane?
"Reliability isn't boring," he stated.
Was it a business failure he'd been turning over in his head, or one of the personal variety?
"Structured childhood?" she guessed.
He shrugged one of his big shoulders. "Yes and no. Dad is ex-military, so he has a side of him that is structured. Mom was more of a free spirit."
Was. He'd mentioned his mother at dinner too. Merina wondered how long ago he'd lost her. How much her loss affected her sons and her husband. She imagined the pain of losing someone that beloved would linger a lifetime.
"You?" He sipped his drink. She wished she could crack open his head and see what he was thinking. His controlled facial expressions hid his thoughts.
"My parents are traditional. They believe in working hard, but they also know money is a tool to provide comfort, not the end-all be-all of existence.