Page 7 of Finding Jacob
I didn’t want to say she’d made arrangements for the evening, and it seemed perfectly logical they might be together.
“What are your plans tomorrow?”
“I have one meeting and three shows to get my ladies to.”
“Do you like your job? The industry you’re in?”
They seemed very odd questions to ask. “Yes, to both.” He smiled and nodded. “Do you?”
“Very much so.” Again, he answered without actually answering the question. Perhaps I wasn’t to know that much about him, and it seemed I was at a disadvantage.
I supposed, if he was an escort, and it would have to be a high-class one to afford to live all over the world, as he’d said, he would want to be discreet.
He paid the taxi driver and we climbed from the cab. The hotel door was opened for us and, although it wasn’t the usual hotel I’d stay in, the doorman greeted me by name. He surprised me by doing the same to Jacob. I paused just inside.
“He knows you,” I said, and I wanted to add ‘is this hotel where you bring your clients?’
“Yes. The gin bar is this way,” he replied, placing his hand on my back, and guiding me towards it.
Two elderly women stopped us on the way. They greeted Jacob by name and smiled at me. He introduced me as a friend and, although they were polite enough, it annoyed me to hear them speak in Spanish, excluding me from the conversation. If I thought his English was like melted butter, his Spanish was the chocolate I wanted spread over my body, waiting to be licked off. I shivered at the thought.
“Are you cold?” he asked, turning his attention immediately to me.
“No, someone walked over my grave,” I replied, a standard British term for the explanation of an involuntary shiver.
I half expected the elderly ladies to cross themselves, they looked at me with a mortified expression, one of horror at what I’d said. It did the trick, though. They left and we were able to carry on.
“Clients?” I said, and then laughed at the absurdity of that.
“Huh?”
“Oh, nothing, I was mumbling.”
Jacob opened the door for me, and I led the way into a bar. It was furnished with sofas arranged around small tables. Luxurious cream-covered chairs offered a more formal seating arrangement and that’s where we headed. It was a shame; I would have enjoyed sitting next to him rather than opposite.
“Do you drink gin?” he asked, and then chuckled. “I guess it’s a little late to ask that, isn’t it? I just imagine all Brits do.”
“No, actually, but I’m willing to try anything.”
His stare bored right to my core. “Anything?” he asked, his voice causing a tremble in my stomach.
I leaned forwards slightly. “Yes. Anything.”
“Then let me guide the rest of your evening.”
As if by magic or he’d given some kind of signal I hadn’t seen, a waiter appeared by his side. He placed his order and then sat back in his chair. He crossed one leg over the other, his foot resting on his knee, and he picked an imaginary piece of lint from his trouser leg.
“You told me about the plus one, now tell me about the ex,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, more a demand.
“Not much to tell really. He works in sales, a douche, as you Americans would say…Sorry, Spanish would say, perhaps?” I laughed at my error. “I don’t know why I stayed with him for so long. I didn’t really feelenoughfor him.”
“You didn’t have enough feelings for him, or you didn’t think you were enough for him?” he asked.
“I didn’t have enough feelings for him. Why did I just quit on the relationship?”
“Are you asking me that question?”
“No. Oh, I don’t know. It’s done and dusted; I don’t miss him. He’s out of my life but sadly, in my sister’s. Not that I feel sad for her, they deserve each other. Just that it’s made life awkward.” I felt like I was rambling.
