Yours for the Night (10 page)

At four o’clock, she raced home from the open house, as if two and a half hours was an impossible amount of time in which to get ready. She washed, dried, fluffed, and mussed her hair, deciding it looked as good as if she’d been to the salon.

She chose a midnight blue velvet dress that matched her favorite Jimmy Choos. The neckline plunged, and the skirt was fun and flirty, reaching past midthigh. She forgot she was meeting a client and dressed for the man of her dreams, especially the thigh-high stockings with a sexy back seam. She was ready for anything. She wanted everything. Her life would have been perfect if her bell hadn’t rung half an hour before she was expecting it to.

When she opened the door, Marianna’s stomach dropped straight to her toes. Her father stood miles tall in the hall. All her life, he’d seemed miles tall, totally out of her reach. This evening was no different. Yet she was old enough to hide her insecurities behind a big smile. “Dad. Wow. Come on in. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He was checking up on her, that much was obvious; otherwise he wouldn’t have come without her mother.

“Well, don’t you look lovely.”

She suppressed a shudder. She wouldn’t let this ruin her date with Chase.

“I’m going to a cocktail party. Business. A client invited me.” It just wasn’t a real estate client.

She closed the door behind him as he raised his nose to sniff. “Coffee. Thank God. Your mother’s coffee is terrible.”

Marianna loved a cup while she was dressing, whether it was morning or night. “I’ll pour you one.” Her insides shouted, Tell me what you want. Still, she led him into the kitchen with a chipper smile on her face and made polite conversation about nothing, none of which she’d remember later.

“Your mother sent me,” he said, seating himself at the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen nook.

“Mom sent you?” God, it was serious.

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“She told me I was a putz for not giving you the money.” He hitched a hip and pulled out his wallet, unfolded it.

She felt like Alice sucked down the rabbit hole. It was a nightmare. They’d argued, and he’d given in to keep the peace, which probably made him pissed as hell. At her, not her mom.

Poised with his fingers in his wallet, he asked her, “How much do you need?”

She wanted to throw up. Until the moment she remembered she didn’t need his money. “Dad, I’m okay now.” It shouldn’t have felt so good, considering how she’d gotten the cash. “I sold a house last week, and my broker gave me an advance on the commission, so I’m all set.” She spread her hands to encompass her outfit. “That’s what the cocktails are about. To celebrate finding their dream home.” The lies were just piling up. Soon, she’d bury herself under them. Her father beamed and slapped his wallet down. “Sweetie, congratulations. The talk we had must have gotten you off your duff.”

She barely suppressed the wince. “It sure did. Without you, Dad, I would never have gotten busy. You were so right. All it took was a little hard work.”

She was laying it on way too thick, making even herself nauseous. “I’ve got some open houses tomorrow as well. So it’s all looking good.”

He smiled that big, toothy smile usually reserved for her sister. “Honey, I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it when you applied yourself.”

Not. He’d never believed she could do anything. She’d been applying herself all along, harder than he’d ever given her credit for.

“If I hear of anyone needing an agent, I’ll pass on your card. Give me a stack, will ya, sweetie?”

She fished her holder from her purse and gave him what was in it. “I appreciate it, Dad.” She wondered if he’d even handed out the last set. He had a ton of business contacts, but she was pretty sure that up until this point, he’d been too embarrassed by her to give out her cards. Maybe he even thought she’d screw up a deal and make him look bad.

He rose, his coffee only half-finished. Mission accomplished. He’d gotten her in line—no need to stay. “Now I can tell your mother she didn’t need to worry so much.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Keep up the good work.” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “If you want me to invest any of the money for you, let me know.”

Good God. He really was proud of her. He actually was. It was unbelievable, 62

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a state of relationship she’d never had with her father. He hadn’t even asked to see the check she’d received. There was a catch, there had to be. Maybe he was going to call her broker and verify the sale.

“Just let me build up my cash reserves, Dad, then we’ll talk about it.” Of course, she wouldn’t do it. She rather die. Giving him money to invest was along the lines of borrowing from him, like making a deal with the devil. She never wanted him to feel he had a right to ask where the money came from.

DINNER WAS DELICIOUS, SEXY FUN, WITH MARIANNA GORGEOUS IN blue velvet. But she went over the moon when Chase bought her the symphony program.

She grabbed his arm, sank her fingers into his biceps. “Oh my God. It’s Ashkenazy.” As if she were speaking in reverent tones about a favorite movie hunk actor, her breathless, husky voice strummed his cock.

“It was last minute,” he said, “so we didn’t have much choice.”

Her eyes sparkled as she pulled him out of the stream of symphony-goers heading into the auditorium. “Do you see what he’s playing?” She stabbed the program. A Rachmaninoff piano concerto and rhapsody was all Chase could make out before she went on. “These are my two most favorite piano pieces in the whole world and he’s my most favorite pianist. I saw him when I was in my teens, but he played some horrible discordant Dvoák music I hated.”

“I did good, then, huh?” He felt inordinately pleased. She went up on her toes to kiss his cheek, and he could have sworn moisture clouded her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He’d racked his brain for something he thought she’d like and decided the symphony was a good bet. When he purchased the tickets, he hadn’t even asked who or what was playing. He hadn’t cared. It was simply the elegant ambience he’d wanted. Yet someone up there was looking out for him. He took her hand to lead her to a less crowded set of stairs. “I hope you approve of the seats, too.”

Upstairs, down a hall, he handed the ticket to a docent in a burgundy jacket. The man pointed several doors down.

“You got us a private box.” Awe dripped from her voice as he opened the door for her.

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He attributed the fact that a box was still available to the economy. People were no longer willing to pay exorbitant prices. He, however, wanted the privacy. Like an excited child, Marianna scampered down to the railing to look out. The slightly angled box was three tiers deep, designed for a party rather than a couple. A small curtained-off landing lay to the right where the wall blocked the stage view. The champagne Chase had ordered, chilling in a silver bucket, stood beyond the drapery. He popped the cork while Marianna was entranced by the sights. The dress was primarily formal—Chase himself had chosen a tux—but there were a few tweed jackets over jeans.

Marianna dashed back up the three steps. “He’s not out there yet, but the rest of the musicians are tuning up.”

Which explained the cacophony of voices, laughter, the clash of instruments, and Marianna’s bright cheeks. He handed her a glass and clinked. “Cheers.”

She sipped, closed her eyes, moaned. “Oh God, that’s good.”

She enjoyed everything with gusto—Ashkenazy, champagne, Rachmaninoff, teriyaki drumsticks with peaches, his touch, her orgasm. As he let his eyes rove over her, her sweet sounds caressing his ears, his cock twitched, begging for more.

She opened her eyes, smiled. “That’s orgasmic.”

Her terminology amused and delighted him. He had so much more in store for her tonight. “Let’s sit. The performance won’t start for another fifteen minutes.”

She settled into the second seat on the top tier. Chase noted that they were damn near invisible from most angles, though their view of the stage was undeterred. Perfect.

Marianna, however, concentrated on him, gazing over the rim of her glass as she sipped.

“I want to hear more about being a real estate agent.” He allowed a smile to rise. “We got sidetracked yesterday.” He wanted to sidetrack her again tonight, but he was a patient man.

Over dinner, she’d steered the conversation to him, getting him to talk about his work. They’d even covered current events. Now he wanted to learn more about her.

She sighed, a sharp inhale, then a puff of air. “The market is not the best right now, you know. My father says I got into the business too late.”

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Her father. Chase was beginning to visualize the man as an ogre. “So you haven’t always been in real estate.”

“I started out as a librarian.”

He laughed, couldn’t help himself. “Marian the librarian.”

She smiled with him. “A naughty librarian.” She ran a finger down his sleeve.

“There are a lot of naughty things I didn’t get to do to you.”

A librarian, a real estate agent, a courtesan. The sad state of the market was probably why she’d had to supplement her income. Chase figured that was his gain. “What things?” he asked.

She wet her lips with champagne. “I could give you a back rub.”

A laugh burst from him. “All you want to do is rub my back?”

She leaned in, smiled up at him, a sultry, seductive cast to her gaze. “I could rub your chest, too, if you want.”

“It’s not my chest that’s getting hard and needs your attention.”

“Dirty man,” she whispered. “I can’t rub that here.”

Hell, yes, she could. No one would see. “The lights will be going down soon.”

The box would be in relative darkness.

“We would miss the music.” Yet her hazel eyes glittered, the color changing, reflecting bits of gold, as she turned her head slightly to gauge how visible they were.

He touched the small jewel case in his pocket. He’d thought about giving it to her at dinner, but was glad he’d waited until she’d learned who was playing tonight.

“For you.” The ring box lay on the flat of his hand. “I decided this would be preferable to money.” He hadn’t wanted to hand her cash, and Harve said presents were always welcome.

Chase was silent for three beats. The instruments suddenly got louder, the murmur of voices higher pitched.

MARIANNA FELT A THROB AT HER TEMPLE. SHE’D BEEN HAVING A marvelous time. She planned to have her wicked way with this man, touch him, stroke him, taste him, but she’d forgotten she was being paid to do it. “You open it,” she said.

Inside, light sparkled on gold filigree and jade. “I thought it was the same color as your eyes just before the storm hit yesterday.”

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A wave of warmth rushed through her body. He’d actually thought about what to get her. Matched it to her eyes, for God’s sake. “It’s beautiful.” Antique, an oblong jade stone set in intricate curlicues of gold. It was a gift, not payment. Something he’d give a girlfriend, not a courtesan. Cash would have been so much easier. Or even a trip to a mall jewelry store. But this had taken time, thought, energy. It was part of the fantasy. He pulled it free, and she fit it to her middle finger.

She held her hand against her sleeve for him to see. “It almost matches my dress.” Amazingly, it picked up the midnight blue.

“It’s like your eyes, changeable depending on the mood.” He smiled. God. He’d actually looked into her eyes yesterday. He’d found her perfect music on a fluke, her favorite pianist. Now a ring that matched her eyes. Marianna could get used to this.

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MARIANNA CLOSED HER EYES, SWAYING WITH THE NOTES AS IF THEY

came from inside her. Chase was awed, entranced. She made him feel the music rather than merely hear it. The piano, with orchestral accompaniment, hit a crescendo at the end of the adagio, and she smiled as if she were in heaven, her lashes against her cheeks, a tear of delight at the corner of her eye. He’d always enjoyed a night out at the symphony, but she made it an experience. Marianna was the beauty in the music. The piano faded away, only the echo of its strings in the quiet symphony hall. No one spoke, no one even breathed. The pianist flexed his fingers, readied himself, his hands hovering over the keys as he raised his eyes to the maestro. Violin bows rose, poised, on the brink. Marianna took his hand into her lap, squeezed, and made his heart beat faster with her smile. Then the concerto entered the allegro, with a livelier tempo that brought a light laugh to her lips. It was as if the music told a story she could hear in her head. Shards of light danced in the ring on her finger. He’d found it in a shop in Los Gatos this morning, a jeweler he used to go to regularly years ago. He’d had to have it for her.