Savor (Billionaire Bachelors Club #3)

When she nods, I lead her to the front desk, requesting a table for two. The hostess grabs two menus and leads us up the floating stainless steel staircase to a semi-private alcove, filled with quiet booths that line the wall and overlook the bright lights of Times Square. A small jazz quartet plays along the opposite wall—soothing, soft music that adds to the hushed atmosphere.

“You’re not hungry?” I ask after the hostess leaves us, flipping open the menu immediately. “I’m starved. Conference chicken and dry rice pilaf doesn’t do much for my appetite.”

She laughs, the sweet sound washing over me, making me yearn. For her. “Sounds awful.”

“It was.” I glance over the entrees, my stomach grumbling at some of the offerings, especially the blue cheese-encrusted filet mignon. “I know what I’m having,” I say, shutting the menu.

“So do I,” she says, closing hers as well, her sparkling gaze meeting mine. She looks extra pretty in the candlelight, and I can smell her. That intoxicating scent of hers that drives me wild. I don’t know if I can withstand it much longer.

“You getting dessert?”

“I think so. I filled up on a pasta dish from room service earlier. It was delicious.” She smiles, a mysterious little curve of her lips that makes me want to discover all of her secrets. She has lots of them. I don’t know much about her, and I wish I did. Seeing her like this, spending time with her, fills me with greed.

I want more. More of Bryn.

“That’s what I should’ve done rather than listening to that guest speaker. He was boring.” I take a sip of my ice water, hoping it’ll cool my suddenly heated skin. Just watching her, how the candle flickering on our table casts her face in a golden glow, I’m mesmerized by how beautiful she is, how at ease she seems to be with me tonight. This is a first. We haven’t felt this comfortable with each other in weeks.

“We should’ve ditched the conference altogether today and explored the city,” Bryn suggests. “I know we’re here to work, but I’ve never been to New York City before.”

“It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?”

She nods. “I feel like a total hick coming here. Like I want to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and just stare at everything. All the people, the noise, the lights, the smells—I’ve truly never seen anything like it. Cactus has nothing on this place.”

I like it when she talks about her past, which isn’t often enough for my liking. It offers a glimpse into her world that I don’t get to see. She’s a private person, and I can’t blame her but I’m still curious.

The waiter approaches and we order drinks—water for Bryn and a beer for me—plus a crab cake appetizer that I offer to share but she passes on it.

“I don’t really do seafood,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

Damn, she’s cute. I notice when she gets tired or feels comfortable, the southern accent makes a faint appearance.

“Really? I love it.”

“We don’t get much seafood in Cactus if you know what I mean. It’s terribly dry and flat and not an ocean in sight.”

We grew up in completely different worlds. I’d spent my entire life in the Bay Area, bouncing around as my dad moved us from place to place, but never really straying. Growing up by the ocean in such a huge city, I never realized what an effect it had on me. How it made me view the world. For Bryn, growing up in such a small town in the middle of nowhere had profound effects on her too. “What made you leave your hometown?”

“There was nothing there for me.” Her expression shutters, and I wonder why. It always feels like there’s more behind her reasoning, and she’s just not telling me. “It’s a small town that’s going nowhere. I would’ve gone nowhere.” She tears her gaze from mine, staring off into space. “But sometimes if you have no other choice, you have to settle for nowhere, you know?”

No, I didn’t know, but I’d never been one to settle. If there was something I wanted, I went after it until it was mine. I liked a challenge. “Settling for nowhere sounds like a last resort.”

“What if you’ve tried all the resorts and none of them worked out?” she asked, her voice dropping to a low murmur as her gaze meets mine once again, her eyes wide, her expression . . . forlorn.

I immediately want to comfort her. Wrap her in my arms and reassure her everything’s going to be all right. I don’t even know what I’d be referring to, but I don’t care. She brings out a protectiveness in me I didn’t even realize I had.

“What are you talking about Bryn?” There’s definitely more going on here than what she’s saying, and I want to know what it is.

“I left home because I had a bad experience at a job.” A funny little smile crosses her lips, and I wonder what sort of bad experience she’s talking about. “Then I moved to Los Angeles because I decided to become a model. I’m tall, I have a decent face, and I decided I was going to use my natural assets to get a job. But that was a disaster.”

I can only imagine. I’ve heard plenty of firsthand stories of how Hollywood chews up these pretty, naive girls and spits them out.

Bryn was gorgeous enough that I wouldn’t doubt she had a lot of interest. Probably all of it overtly sexual though, since so many of the sleazy photographers and directors that line the Hollywood streets won’t do anything for a girl unless she sleeps with them first.