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I ROTATED IN SLOW MOTION on the spot, turning around to see Tom peering at me through the open window of his car. A good part of me wanted to just make a run for it—surely there was a hotel near here—and I did not trust myself to get back into that car with him. But the weaker side surrendered almost immediately to the New York chill, and I walked dejectedly down the steps.
“You sure you don’t mind?”
He opened the door. “Get in.”
Once we were settled back on the seats, he flashed me a look of extremely restrained amusement, eyes twinkling as he asked as neutrally as he could, “Your boyfriend busy?”
A horribly-timed flush burned my cheeks. “I forgot, his mother is in from out of town.”
“Ah, I see,” he said good-naturedly. “So...where to, Jenna?”
For a second, I blanked. Why hadn’t I just asked Michael if I could stay the night at his place—surely he wasn’t going to be using it tonight. Then again, I could never know if I’d wake up to terrifying naked Russian women demanding to teach me Bikram Yoga.
“Um...isn’t there a Marriot around here, or something?”
Tom cast me a sarcastic look. “You’re really going to pay to get a hotel for the night?”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re really going to lecture me about money? And where else would I go?”
“You could come to my place.”
The partition raised up of its own accord as if sensing danger.
“Your place?” I repeated in shock.
In the several months Tom and I had been secretly dating, I had only ever been to his place one time, to pick him up on the way to mine. The reason was simple enough—his building was always stalked by paparazzi, whereas no one either knew or cared where I lived. But that begged the simple question...why on earth would he have me go there now?
Not that I would ever go! I thought the leather seats were dangerous? There was no way Tom and I were sleeping in the same building unsupervised.
“Yeah, my place,” he repeated casually. “There’s plenty of room for guests. I’m going to be up half the night working anyway.” He paused. “We can go in separately if you’re worried about being seen together.”
I almost laughed at the irony. “If I’m worried about being seen together?” To be honest, it was the least of my worries right now.
“Look, if you want to get a hotel instead, that’s fine. I know the Crowne Plaza is around here somewhere...I think it’s only about six hundred a night.”
Oh—the jerk! I knew for a fact I could take six hundred out of his wallet right now, and he would never notice that it was gone. But for me...? Well, that was a sizable portion of my half of the rent, and I wasn’t willing to part with it just for pride.
I stifled a sigh and tried to look as unconcerned as him. “Your place would be fine.”
His eyes twinkled again. “In that case—Nathan—home please.”
The cab sped off to a part of uptown I had never been before. It was relatively close to Michael’s—in the ritziest neighborhood on the street—but felt somehow secluded, residential. When we finally pulled up outside the beautiful brownstone, I gazed up in honest wonder.
“I’ll never get over the fact that this is where you live.”
His head turned to me suddenly, and he looked like he was about to say something before he just flashed me a quick smile and held open the door. “After you.”
Unlike Michael—who owned the top floor of a luxury hotel—Tom had decided to purchase a mansion-sized house for his residence. When we walked through the heavy oak doors, I stared around in open curiosity.
He had created...a home.
There was no other word for it. In some ways, it reminded me of the cottage up at Camden. Expensive, of course, not sparse like the wintery cabin—but intimate, familiar. There was antique looking furniture everywhere and pictures of family and friends on the wall.
He took down one of these before I could see it and slipped it discreetly into a desk. “So,” he gestured around, “can I fix you something to eat? Maybe get you a drink?”
Alone in Tom Larchwood’s house with alcohol? Not a good combination. Then again, I didn’t know how I was going to handle my nerves if I didn’t temper them a little with wine.
“That would be lovely,” I answered, slipping off my coat. “Can I help you?”
“No, please, just make yourself at home.” He gestured down the hall to what looked like the living room. “I’ll meet you in just a minute.”
I walked down the hall and settled in one of the plush chairs, carefully avoiding the cozy-looking sofa situated right in front of the fire. “Tom, is there a way to turn this on?” I called.
“Just press the button on the mantle,” he answered.
I did as he asked, and by the time he returned with two glasses of wine, a roaring fire had sprung up before us. He looked at where I was sitting before settling himself on the opposite chair, handing me a glass of wine. Then he reached down and set a bag of Oreos on the little coffee table between us.
I stared at the Oreos, then at him, then back at the Oreos.
“They go with the wine,” he said simply, ignoring the implication.
“Sure...” I tried not to smile and took one for myself, chasing it down with a huge swig of chardonnay. “So, what work do you have to do?”
“Pardon?”
I hesitated. “You said you were going to be up all night working...?”
His face cleared. “Oh—it can wait.” He took a huge sip of his own wine, before venturing, “So, you and Eric. That was fast.” I looked up sharply, and he quickly held up his hands. “I don’t mean anything by that...just making conversation.”
I relaxed, but only slightly. “Are you going to report me?”
Our eyes locked together, and we burst out laughing—a nervous, light kind of laughter—but laughter nonetheless.
“I think I can let this one slide...”
His eyes met mine again, and I realized I hadn’t answered his question.
“But...yes. I guess Eric and I are pretty new. Just...feelings things out.” I resisted the urge to cover my eyes to hide the lie. At this very moment, Eric was in the shower with a man I wondered if I’d ever meet. “He’s a good guy. You’d like him.”
“I doubt that.”
I looked up warily to see Tom staring intently at my face. My nerves flared up again, and I gulped down the rest of my wine before setting down the glass. “Look, if this is going to be awkward—”
“It’s not,” he assured me, standing up quickly. “Here, why don’t I show you to your room?”
I picked up my purse and followed him slowly up the stairs. The house had to be one of the first ones built in New York. It was beautifully renovated, but there was obviously history here. I ran my hands up the darkened banister with a smile.
“When did you move in here?”
He glanced back with a little smile. “About ten years ago. I bought it on my twenty-first birthday. The neighborhood was a little quieter then.”
“So that was after the motorcycle down the steps of the Met?” I asked mischievously.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I can’t come down too hard on Mike. It’s not like I haven’t been there myself.”
I bit my lip and smiled, trying to imagine it. The all-powerful Abe Larchwood forced to come down to county jail to bail out his son—probably with the same godfather excuse that Tom had used tonight. But thinking of Abe got me thinking about that night in Maryland again, the night when my whole future got ripped away from me, and I fell silent.
Tom must have been thinking along the same lines because he led me up the stairs without another word. Once we got to the landing, he pointed down the hall. “That’s you—there’s a bathroom attached.” He pointed in the other direction with a faint flush. “That’s me, in case you need anything.”
I flushed as well before answering quickly, “Thank you—I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I took a step in the direction of the room before glancing awkwardly back. “And...thank you. For letting me stay here. And for the rides. And the wine...and everything.”
Gosh, Jenna—why don’t you just offer to give him money for gas?
“It’s no problem at all,” his eyes glowed warmly, “I was happy to do it.”
We stood there self-consciously for a moment before I turned on my heel. “Well, goodnight then.”
“Goodnight, Jenna.”
After taking a quick shower—in what had to be the most decadent shower I had ever seen—I toweled off before realizing that in my haste at my apartment, I hadn’t brought any clothes to sleep in. Feeling a bit like a snoop, I peeked inside the drawers of the guest dresser until I found one of Tom’s old tee-shirts. I slipped it on—swearing to never tell him about it—before climbing into bed.
I don’t know how long I lay there—it had to have been quite a while—but before I knew what was happening, I fell asleep.