Page 58 of Cocky Prince
“I don’t want to wait until I finish your closet in order to see you again.”
I smile against his neck. “Okay.” My voice is breathless. And yes, I sound like a love-struck girl, but whatever. I worried that he put a stop to things this morning because he was having second thoughts. Considering the firm ridge of deliciousness pressed against my belly, the man is happy to see me.
“Come out with me tomorrow night,” he says. “To a cocktail party I’ve committed to. Be my date.”
I pull back and look in his eyes. There’s a hint of nervousness there, but also excitement, if I’m not mistaken. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“Asking.”
I lean up and kiss his chin. “Yes.”
* * *
“I’ve never broughtanyone here before,” Adam says as we pull down the drive to Club Tahoe. His hand is casually draped over the steering wheel, and he looks a bit mystified, as though he’s surprised by his own actions.
Adam is wearing a sport coat and a crisp white button-down with a casual tie, and he looks delicious enough to eat. The speed with which this man changes from hot mountain guy to hot businessman gives me whiplash, but I’m not complaining. I like the unguarded, casual Adam best, but this Adam will do.
I glance at the entrance and see the valet running over, an eager look on his face, as though he recognizes Adam’s car. “You never brought dates to your family’s resort?”
“No.” He puts the car in park.
The valet opens Adam’s door and greets him by name. Another valet opens my door and helps me out. I’m wearing a blush-pink cocktail dress with a vee neckline and cinched waist, the skirt flowing just above my knees. There’s a nip in the air, but I didn’t grab a wrap before I left. I figured we wouldn’t be outside long.
“Why wouldn’t you bring them here?” I ask across the hood of the car as Adam makes his way around.
He rests his hand on my lower back and guides me to the entrance. “Club Tahoe isn’t me,” he finally says.
A doorman opens one of two massive doors made of wrought iron and logs. I should be looking ahead, but my gaze is stuck on the chandelier above us. It’s a showstopper, with opaque beige glass and ornate wrought iron to match the door, the top twinkling with gemlike glass and small lights that in actuality are probably as large as my hand. I’m slack-jawed, and this is just the outdoor lighting.
Adam ushers me through, and I realize why the designer went to such great lengths on the front. Inside, Club Tahoe is like a log cabin—if a log cabin were on steroids and someone had tens of millions of dollars to spend on décor.
More wrought iron chandeliers dangle from log ceilings. The walls are dark, knotted wood paneling with rough stone arches over alcoves and walkways. Plush Persian rugs adorn the wood floors, and tufted, worn leather ottomans rest in front of velvet couches with silk throw pillows. And that’s just at a glance.
I step back and take Adam in, now that I’ve seen the place. Between his tailored Italian suit, incredibly handsome face, and confident posture, he looks like a man you’d see advertising this place. And then I think of the guy who likes hot wings and spent his weekend building a closet for a girl because he lost a bet. And I think of the way he kisses, with utter care and passion all mixed in one.
“No,” I say. “You’re nothing like Club Tahoe. It’s beautiful and austere, and you’re so much more.”
His gaze darkens. He leans down and kisses me, his breath fanning across my chin as he lingers before lifting his head. When he does, there’s a naughty glint in his eyes. “Ready to play the part?”
“Of the attractive, fun-loving date to the spoiled little rich boy?” Adam rolls his eyes and reaches behind me, grabbing my ass. Hard.“Eeep.”
“Come along, Ms. Marcos. Play the princess to your prince. Better yet, just be yourself. My father expects me to marry a society woman. I’d like him to see how much better I’ve done.”
I glance out of the corner of my eye, because he just mentioned marriage and me in the same sentence. He’s joking, but my chest is fluttering like someone unleashed a kaleidoscope of butterflies in there. Even if Adam isn’t serious about the marriage part, that’s the sweetest thing a guy has ever said to me.
I need to stop underestimating him. If we’re dating, and based on tonight, it’s safe to say we are, I have to get used to the idea that he’s more than I imagined a man could be, let alone the man I once believed incapable of caring for anyone other than himself.
Adam takes me across the wide expanse of the lobby, down a beautiful corridor with antique trellis tables, glowing candle arrangements, and colorful oil paintings of mountain landscapes that hang beneath stone wall arches. We wind around a corner and he opens a wood-planked door with iron decorative detail.
Another spectacular room waits on the other side, this one holding a party. A long bar centers one wall, and there’s a small dance floor in front of a tall, triangle-paned window overlooking the lake. A corner of the room contains more windows that reveal the back of the lobby and what looks to be an indoor winding pool, or river.
“This is amazing.”
He looks down at me. “You’ve never been here? Not with your parents years ago?”
I laugh. “You do realize how expensive your father’s resort is for the rest of us humans?”
He glances around, his brow puckered. To him, this place must seem like nothing special.
