Chapter Eight

Their dinner was delightful, aided as it was by the gorgeous bottle of wine. Once it was empty they switched to champagne and he asked Jennifer to choose.

They shared a dessert of cheese and berries, then lingered over coffee.

Their conversation flowed easily, more comfortable than any she'd had on first dates. They visited many of the same places and knew - or knew of - much of the same people. It was as though they'd orbited around one another, never quite managing escape velocity. It was a wonder they hadn't connected before, really.

Over the course of the evening the sun dropped below the horizon leaving the city around them looking like a blanket of stars. So much movement, the activity a busy galaxy. With the vista spread below them and their backs to the rest of the dining room, they felt alone in infinite.

It was lovely.

"What do I do to relax…hmm." She did so many things. She read, she wrote (not articles, but journals. Some poetry.) She drew, she visited with animals. "Some yoga. A lot of Pilates."

"You won't think I'm being too forward if I tell you that you've benefited quite a bit from some yoga and a lot of Pilates."

She was fit, she knew it, and she worked hard to attain it, so she tilted her head in acknowledgement. "Thank you. But it's more than that. I studied dance in school for a time. I wanted to do ballet, but I wasn't built for it."

Jonathan made a small noise of derision that made her laugh. She motioned to her chest, so recently boosted from her purchase, and looking very voluptuous under the dark pinstripes.. She didn't really have regrets about not quite having the body for ballet. The way Jonathan's eyes darkened as he looked her over was well worth that trade.

"Anyway. It was a way to feel connected to that part of my life. And to stay flexible."

Jonathan made a small noise of…delight? "How flexible?"

She didn't answer, but her lips twitched. He'd find out.

"What about you? Are you all work and no play?"

"I'm mostly work and only a little play. I like tennis and golf, both of which are good for business. But for my own pleasure, I play polo. Although not as much as I used to."

It was Jennifer's term to audibly gasp, before turning her eyes down demurely. She had her weaknesses, and a nice ass in tight breeches was definitely one of them. Years in the past, Jennifer had a brief affair with a younger man. Maybe "affair" was too generous a word. A night, then. He was an Argentinian polo player she interviewed when he was playing on the east coast. Sadly the young man ended up involved in some scandal about an emerald and he was murdered less than a year later. It was only that moment she recalled some of the details of that story, and how it was Jonathan Hart who had captained the American team.

At the time, she might have wished he got beaned by a mallet, but the older and wiser version of her was very glad he wasn't.

"I love to watch polo." She admitted with a grin.. "So much power on display. And I like the horses, too." It wasn't subtle flirting, not in the least. And the way Jonathan leaned back and grinned into his coffee, she knew he caught her meaning.

"How long are you going to be in Los Angeles?" The waiter came with the check and, without looking at it, Jonathan handed off a card to pay.

"I have one more day of field work for photographs. The story itself is finished and printed and ready. Once I have the article in to Marcia - which should be sometime this weekend - along with the film, I'm done."

"So soon?" Was she imagining the note of disappointment in his voice? He put down the coffee cup and looking at her, searchingly.

"I have no where I have to be, so…not necessarily. I can take some time between this story and the next."

"That's good," Jonathan took the check from the waiter and signed the receipt with a flourish before tucking his carbon and card into his wallet. "That's very very good."

Jonathan wasn't one to make assumptions, but as they crossed to the elevator Jennifer weaved her arm through his. She'd been sure to bring the rose with her, holding it gently between her fingers.

"You're on the 4th floor, aren't you?" He asked, making eye contact with her. He wouldn't push in, but he very much hoped to be invited. She nodded and backed up to the railing. When he turned back to her, she was radiant against the city lights. She jerked her chin at him, inviting him closer, and a thrill tickled up his spine.

He would take his time, though. They had all night.

Jennifer arched her back and curled one foot over the other before looking up through the glass at the pitch night. The long column of her neck begged him closer and who was he to argue?

The notion of slow seduction flew out of his head the moment the elevator descended smoothly and Jennifer's fiery hot gaze locked on his.

Oh hell.

"Do you have a curfew?" He asked when he was nestled up to her, his arms bracketing her in place. He felt her breath on his throat, warm and coffee scented, and it made his knees a little weak. He wasn't sure who was seducing who and, in that moment, he did not care.

"Not if I sneak you into my room." She challenged and reached out to grip the lapel of his coat. He couldn't move any closer, but that didn't stop her from tugging him tighter against herself. "Will Max ground you if you show up after yours?"

"Nah." Jonathan's heart galloped and he brushed his nose against hers, dipping his face lightly. "I'm a big boy."

"I'm counting on it." Jennifer chuckled, and leaned in for his kiss.

The ding of the elevator wasn't loud, but it was the most unwanted intrusion he could think of in that second. Jennifer giggled and pushed past him to step out onto the balcony ringing the atrium at the center of the hotel. Her room was down the long hallway and to the right, looking out towards the east side of the city.

"Oh." She breathed. There was music coming from somewhere and one look down showed a lone piano player next to the large water feature. The music rose gently around them, some old standard or another, and echoed in the cavernous space. "I love this song."

She looked back to where Jonathan was standing and did a quick double take at him and he stood, his hand outstretched.

"You want to dance with me?" She asked, looking surprised. They were alone in the balcony and the music rose and fell with the rushing sound from the fountain. The feeling of being out of time again had returned and Jonathan waggled his fingers at her. "I want to do more than that, but for now dancing will do."

"I want to do more than that, too." She whispered against his throat when he held her and moved them in a slow shuffle. Her hand made a pass over his back and she tucked herself closer to him. She smelled heavenly and fit just so in his arms, as though made for him and him alone. Jonathan closed his eyes and let the music carry them away.

They swayed for two more songs, the dance little more than an upright embrace, and she hummed along. She sang out the occasional word, and he wasn't surprised to find she had a lovely voice. Strong and warm, like velvet. The arm she had around his neck held the rose, the petals brushing his cheek.

"I would have taken you dancing in London The best clubs." He confided. Their hands had not been idle, and her fingers clutched at his midsection, toying with the waistband of his slacks. He was shocked that there wasn't a visible spark when she touched him, so powerfully sensual was the contact. "And then I would have taken you to bed in London."

She nodded and stepped away from him, so quickly he felt bereft from the lack of contact. She was gorgeously flushed, her eyes bright and more green in the subdued light. She was rustling through her tiny clutch purse, her brow furrowing as she became more and more agitated.

When she looked up at him, there was heartbreak in her gaze.

"No key?" He asked, and she shook her head, biting her lip. He weighed the time it would take to go down to the lobby and get another key. He didn't want to wait that long to kiss her. He didn't want to wait a minute more than absolutely necessary.

They were already 18 years too late, by his count.

"I can kick the door down. Probably."

The alarm in her eyes faded to a wicked grin. She drew her hand from her purse, the gold key pinched between her fingers.

"You don't have to." She laughed and tossed the key at him before scampering down the hall.

She could move in those heels.

Maybe he'd ask her to leave them on.

1) i have been dreaming about this date for six months now and I finally got to write it. don't get used to fast chapters. the plot will catch up with me eventually and I'll be back to dragging my feet. 2) how tall is the atrium in the bonaventure? how many floors up does it go? I don't know. did I look it up? no i learned my lesson. *holds out artistic license* 3) I kept track of that dumb rose. barely. it's important. probably. if I remember it moving forward. 4) we earn our M rating in the next chapter so forewarned is forearmed.