A Christmas Rendezvous. Karen BoothЧитать онлайн книгу.
into a bit of a nightmare, another reason for moving away from Washington, DC. She’d somehow gone from earnest attorney to a political “fixer,” cleaning up the personal messes of the powerful. She was good at it. Very good, actually. But she’d grown weary of that particular rat race. And in Washington, everyone was a rodent of one form or another.
“What would you like to drink?” Jeremy asked, pulling out a chair for her.
Isabel eased into the seat, which was sumptuously upholstered in white velvet with black trim. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, two limes.” She reached into her robe and pulled out the drink coupon, holding it out for Jeremy.
“Save that for a rainy day. It was my invitation. I intend to buy you a drink.”
Isabel had to smile. It’d been a long time since a man had treated her nicely and actually made an effort. She’d been starting to wonder if gentlemanly behavior was a lost art. “Thank you.”
Jeremy flagged down the bartender and was back with her drink in a few minutes. He sat next to her, his warm scent settling over her. It was both woodsy and citrusy, conjuring visions of a romantic fire crackling away. “So, tell me about yourself. What do you do?”
She had to make a choice right then and there as to how this night was going to go. Either they would do the same old getting-to-know-you routine that every man and woman who have just met must seemingly pursue, or they would head in a different direction. Coming to New York was supposed to be a fresh start for Isabel and she intended to follow through on that. She would not cling to old habits. She would try something new.
She reached out and set her hand on Jeremy’s, which was resting on the tabletop. “I vote that we don’t talk about work. At all. I don’t think we should talk about where we went to school or who we used to date or how many important people we know.”
Jeremy’s eyes darkened, but there was a spark behind them—a mischievous glint. He was, at the very least, intrigued. “Okay, then. What do you want to talk about?”
She stirred her drink, not letting go of his hand. She loved that they already had this unspoken familiarity. Like they understood each other, and so soon after meeting each other. “I don’t know. A little brutal honesty between strangers?”
He laughed and turned his hand until their palms were flat against each other. He clasped his fingers around hers. How that one touch could convey so much, she wasn’t sure, but excitement bubbled up inside her so fast she thought she might pop like a cork from a champagne bottle. It was as if she’d been in a deep sleep and her entire body had rattled back to life. She wasn’t the sort of woman who pinned a lot of hope on a man, but she found herself wondering where this might go.
“Like truth or dare, but just the truth part?” he asked.
Isabel swallowed hard, but did her best to convey cool. “Oh, no. I never said I wasn’t up for a dare.”
Jeremy was so tempted to dare Isabel to kiss him, he had to issue himself a mental warning: Slow down, buddy. He was essentially fearless, but he wasn’t the guy to make leaps with a woman. Not anymore. He greatly enjoyed their company, but he’d been burned badly by a toxic marriage and the hellish divorce that followed. Since then, he’d learned to employ caution, but he did occasionally need to remind himself.
Still, he didn’t want to waste his evening ruminating on his past mistakes. Not now. Not when he was sitting with Isabel, a woman who made him want to employ zero restraint. She was not only a captivating beauty, with sleek black hair framing a flawless complexion and warm brown eyes; she had a demeanor unlike any he’d ever encountered, from anyone—man or woman. What person goes to a bar in pale pink silk pajamas and matching robe and seems wholly comfortable? And the bit about not trying to impress each other? That was like a breath of fresh air. If he had to start talking about his job, he’d just get stressed. Especially after the meeting he’d had in this very bar an hour ago.
“I’m afraid I haven’t played truth or dare since I was a teenager,” he admitted.
“Me, neither. And almost all of the dares seemed to involve kissing.”
It was as if she’d read his mind.
“But we aren’t teenagers anymore, are we?” she added.
“Not me. I turned forty this year.” Jeremy cleared his throat, struggling to keep up with her. He was usually laser-focused on a retort. As a lawyer, he got plenty of practice. “Okay, then. Tell me something almost nobody knows about you.”
She smiled cleverly, stirring her drink. “That could take all night. I have lots of secrets.” She bent her neck to one side and absentmindedly traced her delicate fingers along her collarbone.
The first secret Jeremy wanted to know was what was under those pajamas. He wanted to know who was under there—what Isabel would kiss like. What her touch would be like, what it would be like to have her naked form pressed against his. “How about three things I need to know about you? As a person. Three things you believe in.”
She twisted up her beautiful lips, seeming deep in thought. “Okay. I believe that there is no good reason to lie, but that doesn’t mean you have to confess everything. I believe that a good nap will cure most problems. And I believe that love is ultimately the only thing that ever saves anyone.”
“Really?” Jeremy found that last part a bit too sunny and optimistic, but then again, he had his reasons for rolling his eyes at love.
“Like I said, a little brutal honesty between strangers. I have no reason to be anything less than ridiculously open and bare my soul.”
“You’re a therapist, aren’t you? One of those people you pay hundreds of dollars an hour to, just so you can reveal the most humiliating things you’ve ever done.”
She shook her head. “Hey. That’s against the rules. We said we weren’t going to talk about work.”
“So I’m right. You are a therapist.”
“No, you aren’t right.” She flashed her wide, warm eyes at him. “You aren’t wrong, either.”
Jeremy had to laugh while he marveled at the puzzle of Isabel. He wanted to peel back her layers, one by one... He suspected there were a lot of surprises to be found. “I suppose you want me to tell you my three truths now, huh?”
“It’s only fair.”
He had to think for a moment, knowing he had to match the clever balance she’d struck between revealing all and piquing his interest. He would not allow himself to be completely outdone by Isabel. “I believe that taking yourself too seriously is a trap. I believe that apologizing for making a lot of money is stupid. And I believe that there’s nothing wrong with having fun.”
She nodded, seemingly digesting his words. “Those are all very interesting.”
“You’re definitely a therapist.”
“And you are definitely not good at following rules.”
He shrugged. “Most rules are arbitrary.”
“Like what?”
“Like the one that says you shouldn’t invite a woman wearing her pajamas on a New York City sidewalk out for a drink.”
She pointed her finger at him. “Yes. You’re so right. That is a stupid rule.”
He downed the last of his drink, sensing this was the moment when he had to decide whether he wanted to angle for an invitation upstairs. Fear was a big factor. He didn’t want to endure a rejection from Isabel. Something told him she could deliver one in a particularly devastating way. “And yet I went there, didn’t I? I took the chance.”
“Yes, you did, didn’t you? Which makes me wonder what you’re after, Jeremy. A drink? Conversation? Or