I turned my head, meeting his eyes as I swept my long, dark brown hair over my shoulder.
“But I like watching all the commotion from up here,” I told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s no good,” he scolded with a hint of a smile. “Everyone needs to experience the madness of the crowds down there at least once.”
“As you sidestep the puddles of vomit, right?” I shot back.
He shook his head, amused. Leaning his hands on the railing and cocking his head at me, he asked, “So what do you do?”
“I finish my master’s degree in a couple of months,” I replied. “At Loyola.”
A moment of apprehension crossed his eyes, and I cocked my head. Maybe he had thought I was older than I was.
“Does that bother you?” I asked.
“Why would it bother me?” he challenged.
I tilted the corner of my mouth in a smile at his game. “You didn’t follow me out here for the exercise,” I pointed out, both of us knowing damn well where the night between two consenting adults could lead. “I’m still in college, for a couple of months anyway. We might not have anything in common.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” he replied, sounding cocky. “You’ve held my interest this far.”
My eyes flared, and I looked away, tempted to either laugh or chastise him in anger.
“So what do you do, then?” I inquired, not really caring.
He stood up straight and slid his hands into his pockets as he turned to me. “Guess,” he commanded.
I peered up at him, also turning my body to face his.
Guess.
Okay…
Letting my eyes fall down his neck and chest, I took in the black three-piece tux with the silk necktie fitted around the collar of his white shirt.
Every hair was in place, and his statuesque face gleamed alabaster in the candlelight.
His shoes were shiny and unmarred, and the face of his Rolex, with its black alligator-skin strap, reflected the colorful glow of the Christmas lights across the street, which probably remained up all year.
It was virtually impossible to tell exactly what he did for a living, but I could venture a guess.
Stepping up, I reached out with soft hands and slowly opened his jacket at the waist, seeing his arms fall to his sides as he probably wondered what the hell I was doing.
Looking up at him, I tried to keep my breathing steady, but the heat in his eyes as he looked down at me made it difficult.
I inched forward, my body nearly touching his, and then I licked my lips and let my eyes drop to his waist.
“Well,” I played, “I was going to say junior partner, but that’s a Ferragamo belt.”
His chest moved with his suddenly shallow breaths. “And?”
I looked up, meeting his mischievous eyes again. “And usually it’s BOSS or Versace for this set.” I nodded toward the ballroom, indicating the gentlemen inside. “But if you can spend four hundred dollars for a belt,” I clarified to him, “I’m going to say senior partner instead.”
He snorted but made no move to take my hands away.
“You’re a lawyer,” I finally stated.
He squinted his eyes, regarding me. “You seem to know a lot about men’s belts,” he observed, “and how to spot money.”
I almost rolled my eyes. He either thought I was a debutante, used to expensive things, or a woman on the prowl for a rich man.
I was neither.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him, leaning back against the railing. “If you’re lucky enough to get anything out of me, it will come free.”
His body tensed, and he tilted his chin up, looking at me like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with me. I dropped my eyes, grinding my fingers into my palms and trying to calm my nerves.
Why did I say that?
We weren’t in a bar, where it would be assumed that if we got along we might go home together. He was flirting, and I was flirting, but I shouldn’t have been so forward.
Even if it was what I wanted.
I may not do relationships, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like to lose myself in someone for a night. And it had been too long.
He stepped up, and my breath caught when he positioned himself in front of me, planting his hands on the railing at my sides.
Leaning down into my space, he spoke softly. “For such a young woman, you have quite a mouth on you.”
And then his eyes fell to my lips, and my knees nearly buckled.
“I can stop if you want,” I taunted in a quiet voice.
But he grinned. “Now, what fun would that be?” he shot back, still staring at my mouth.
I inhaled, bringing the scent of him into my lungs as my brain turned fuzzy with the aromas of spice and sandalwood.
“Tell me,” he started, “if I’m a lawyer, how do you know that?”
“Well.” I straightened. “Your nails are clean, so you don’t work in labor,” I pointed out, nudging my way out of his hold and walking past him to the stone vase filled with flowers. “Your clothes are designer and tailored, so you make money.” I looked him up and down, taking in his appearance. “And it’s New Orleans. You can’t walk two feet without bumping into a lawyer or a law student.”
I drew the flower petals between my fingers, feeling their silky softness as I sensed him approach my side.
“Keep going,” he insisted. “What brought me here tonight, then?”
My jaw tingled with a smile. He liked to play.
That was odd, actually. I wasn’t used to men who knew how to keep my attention.
“You were forced,” I answered, thinking about the man I wanted him to be. Not one of those stuffy men inside, smoking cigars and patting themselves on the back. I wanted him to be different.