“That’s amazing. Is there a specific reason your parents started the event?” I ask. I’m definitely curious to know more about him.
Owen finishes off his wine and sits back in his chair, averting his gaze to the lake. “My grandfather died from cancer when he was only fifty years old. I was young, so I don’t remember him, but my mom took it really hard. Donating to charities helps her cope.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
He focuses back on me. “That’s why I want to help. I have a friend whose son is autistic. Part of the charity money goes to Action for Autism. It’s amazing how far the money goes.”
I never would’ve thought he’d be the way he is. He’s surprised me. “You’re a good man, Owen Jameson. I’m surprised some lucky woman hasn’t snagged you up yet.”
He chuckles. “If we’re going to talk about that, I’m going to need the hot tub and more wine.”
Standing, I finish off the rest of mine. “Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll go change.” We carry our plates into the kitchen, and I put them in the sink before going to my bedroom. I rummage through my dresser until I find my favorite black bikini. I slip it on and grab a couple of towels out of the bathroom. Is it dangerous to get in the hot tub with a man who could very well be my mystery man? Hell yeah, it is, but I have to know.
As I’m walking down the hall, I hear the patio door close. I peek around the corner and see him through the window as he gets into the hot tub. Here we go. Carrying our towels, I take a deep breath and walk out the door. Owen watches me and it’s not hard to see the need in his eyes. He’s looked at me like that before. I set the towels down and slowly step into the steaming water. Instead of sitting beside him, I move to the opposite side so I can face him. The water is hot against my skin and I sigh as I slip further down into it.
“All right, where were we?” I begin, grinning wide. “Oh yeah, you were going to tell me why some lucky woman hasn’t stolen you away. I find it hard to believe you’re single.”
Owen shakes his head and laughs. “Why is that hard to believe?”
I shrug. “You’re handsome, successful, funny, and you have good taste in Halloween movies.”
He laughs again and runs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Guess the right woman doesn’t know who I am.”
That’s an interesting way of putting it. “Have you dated anyone recently?”
His eyes narrow curiously. “I’ve been out a couple of times. You?”
I nod. “Same.” Taking my hand, I glide it across the top of the bubbling water. “I was hoping to see you at the masquerade, but I never found you. Although Ferris Bueller did find me.”
Owen chuckles. “Nice. I really do hate I missed you. I was there though. I’m sure you saw Damien in the middle of the dancefloor doing the Batdance.”
Gasping, I slap a hand over my mouth. I had no clue it was him. “Wow. Although I’m not shocked. He seems like the type who could go out there and let loose.”
“And he does,” Owen replies. “That’s what I like about him. I’m a little more reserved.”
“So am I. For the most part.”
He stretches his arm wide and rests them on the hot tub. “I’m turning the tables around on you right now. Why are you still single?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t go out as much as I used to. All my friends are married and having kids now. I can’t exactly go out by myself. That’s why the parties have been a blessing. I’ve met a lot of people that way.”
“I have no doubt,” he says, his eyes slowly dropping to my lips and then back to my eyes. “I bet you have men waiting in line to talk to you.”
This makes me laugh. “Not exactly. My mind has mostly been focused on work these days.”
He snorts. “I understand that.”
Clearing my throat, I avert my gaze to my hands as I move them through the water. “So, what were you dressed as at the masquerade?”
Owen stares at me for a second and then smiles. “James Bond. You?”
James Bond could easily pass as Gatsby. “I was a flapper girl,” I answer. “Some people say I reminded them of Daisy Buchanan from Gatsby.”
Owen’s gaze never wavers from mine. We stare at each other for a few minutes and I keep hoping he’ll say it was him, that he’s my Gatsby, but he doesn’t. Am I wrong? The only other way to know for sure is his eyes. He could easily be wearing colored contacts. Why he would want to cover up his gray and gold colors is beyond me. Then again, I wore blue colored contacts for a couple of years to make my eyes pop. Now I love my green eyes and I’m proud to show them off. All I have to do is get close enough to Owen to see if he’s wearing contacts. There’s usually a light-colored ring around people’s irises if they’re wearing them. It won’t prove he’s wearing colored ones, but it’ll at least, prove he has them on.
Owen’s gaze drops to my lips again. “I hate I didn’t get to see you. I’m sure you were really beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Slowly, I move closer to him and place my hands on his thighs. “I hate I missed you too.” I situate my body between his
