I laughed at the thought. How silly. But I surprised myself with the realization of how much I really wanted it. On day three after The Kiss, I called Heath and told him to throw away the New Yorker’s contact information. We would proceed as planned.
Still, my feelings were mixed. I had a hard time reconciling the behavior of Adam Drake at the hotel conference room the day we met and the man who’d come to my place and bought me lunch and, thanks to his perceptiveness, dinner, too. I’d told Heath, but I waited a few more days to tell Adam that I’d decided to go through with it. I didn’t want to appear as eager as I was beginning to feel, after all. I didn’t want to be eager at all.
This was business. And every time I relived the fire of that kiss in my memory, I had to remind myself of that. Business. Business, Mia. Just business. Nothing meaningful would ever result from this encounter between us. I’d designed it expressly to be that way. One night of anonymous abandon from which I’d emerge a new woman—or maybe just the same old me without my virginity but with a lot of money in my bank account.
But now, this man was stirring a whole different pot. A bubbling, roiling cauldron of thrilling need. This night might be too dangerous, like staring into the sun or flying too close to the fire or…
Mr. Drake,
I’ve decided to go through with the agreement as it stands. Please proceed with the business arrangements as outlined in the packet of papers provided to you by Mr. Bowman.
If you prefer, you can speak with him if you have any questions. You’ll need to set a date at least two weeks from now but no more than three months. We can discuss locations, choosing from the list I provided.
Regards,
Mia Strong
My heart thumped in my throat when I hit “send.” I sat and stared at the screen for almost twenty minutes, numbly paging through my regular gaming news sites and clipping things for my blog. I stared at that e-mail icon until it drove me crazy that he wasn’t replying. Did I think he’d change his mind? Was I afraid he would? Or was I just dying to see what he’d say in reaction to this?
Maybe he was in a meeting or on a business trip or unable to get reception. Maybe he was screaming through the atmosphere on his private jet with a pretty hostess in his lap and a martini in his hand. I scrunched up my face at that picture, like he was some kind of young, American James Bond and laughed at my own silliness.
After I got home from that afternoon’s run, I checked again. Nothing. Then I made dinner and sat down to watch an old Friends rerun while I ate. I’m proud to say I only interrupted my meal once to check my computer and make sure the alerts were working properly.
Maybe he had changed his mind? Maybe he’d decided it was too much trouble. After all, I had to question why he’d be interested in this deal anyway. He was young, rich and gorgeous. Weren’t there women beating a path to his door? Why would he bid so much money on a woman he’d never met—before he’d ever seen a picture of my face—for one night? Why did he care? Why did it mean so much to him to remove the virginity of a stranger?
After dinner, I dug into my study books for a couple of hours before finally dozing off around ten. Yes, I was living the high life. When I woke up, Gray’s Anatomy was digging a sharp corner into the small of my back. I pushed the huge book to the floor and the computer chirped.
I don’t think I’ve ever jumped awake faster in my life. I opened up my e-mail and saw his address flashing with the “unread” tag on it. I plunked into my chair and, with a shaky hand on my mouse, opened it.
Ms. Strong,
May 18th. Amstel Amsterdam. 15:00 local time. Check in at the desk, reservation under my name. Pack light. Bowman will make the flight arrangements per my instructions.
See you in two weeks.
Drake
My heartbeat thrummed on every inch of my skin. My forehead broke out in beads of sweat. He’d thought everything through. Amsterdam had been on the list, of course, because of the legality issues of what we were doing. And I’d secretly hoped he’d agree to it, as I’d always wanted to go there, even if it was just for a night. Maybe I could do some sightseeing. I’d always dreamt of seeing Europe. Holland was an excellent start.
I immediately opened up another window and did a search for the hotel and gasped at the pictures I hit. Easily five stars, over a thousand Euros a night. I was getting my cherry popped in style.
But…he had made all the arrangements without consulting me. And while they were splendid arrangements, I was still irked by his assumption of command—again. He’d promised me he’d let me drive this, let me be in control. It was likely that he didn’t even think about things like that. That they were so easy for him to arrange that it didn’t even occur to him that he was wresting anything from my grasp that I didn’t want to cede.