“Excellent choices, you won’t be disappointed, ma’am, sir,” he assured them. Before he left the table, he topped off their Champagne.
“I had no idea you were such a sophisticated gourmet, Dempsey.”
“You mean because I like Cheerios? There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, Danaher.”
Groaning with satisfaction, Marla leaned back in her chair. “That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Or maybe it’s the ambience, or the concert afterglow.”
He laid his hand, palm up, on the table. She leaned forward and put her hand in his. “Could the company have had anything to do with it? Hmm?” If he ever got tired of teasing her it would be because he was dead.
“Quite possibly. Thank you for this lovely day and evening. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much.” She sighed. “But you might want to cancel the crème Brulee. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“That’s for later. I predict you’ll be hungry during the night and need something to restore your strength.” The flash in her brown eyes and the slow nod sent heat soaring through him.
“You may have a point.” An eyebrow went up, and she squeezed his hand. “I might not want to know where you learned to plan ahead so well.”
“Blame it on the USMC. Plan ahead or be dead. But even then something can go wrong. In that case we learn how to improvise.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed you do that quite well.”
He stood. “Shall we?” He drew her to her feet. “It’s time to see what’s in that pink bag Charlene left in the car.”
When they got to the room, Marla snatched up the bag. “I’ll look at it first by myself, in the bathroom. You stay out here.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Just stay out here!” She turned when she had her hand on the bathroom door. “I mean it.”
He raised his hands. “Got it.” He chuckled and went to the table to examine the service tray, lifted a lid, and sniffed at one of the rich sugar-encrusted custards. He took a crispy, rolled-up cookie he didn’t know the name of and popped it in his mouth in one bite.
“Oh, I’m not wearing this thing! Char might wear it, but she’s out of her mind if she thinks I would. She knows me better than that.” He heard paper rattling. “Oh, wait a minute, there’s something else in here. Okay, this is better. Not much, but better.”
“Can I see?”
“No! I’ll be out in a minute.”
Her sister had bought something that had her in a total tizzy, but he’d find a way to talk her in to wearing it later.
“Shake a leg, Danaher. I’m in a fragile state out here.”
The minute was more like five minutes and seemed like an eternity to him. The water went on and off. The toilet flushed. A hangar scraped the back of the door. What the hell was taking her so long? The doorknob turned.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to!”
“I’ve seen you naked, honey.”
“Just close your eyes and stop arguing, please.”
He crossed his arms and sighed. “Okay, Miss Sunday School Teacher. They’re closed. Come out here.” The door hinges barely made a whisper.
“Okay, open them.”
He opened his eyes, clutched at his heart, and gasped dramatically. “Your sister wants to kill me. Call a corpsman.”
“Oh, stop it! Is it too, um, daring? I feel like I should be putting out my hand and asking you for money in this getup.”
Instead of answering, he twirled his finger in a circle. She turned slowly, the hem of the satin, leopard-print slip, trimmed with lace, barely covered her mouthwatering ass. “Look what you did to me, Danaher.” He ran a hand over the bulge in the front of his suit pants, moaned, and reached for his wallet. “How much?”
A bright pink blush on her chest, she sauntered to him using exaggerated hip movements, her breasts swinging, and extended her hand. “Five hundred dollars. In advance.”
He grinned. “Can I have credit for what I’ve already spent?” He pulled some bills out. “Otherwise, I’ll have to owe you.”
“People in my profession don’t extend credit, Marine. But because you’re obviously so new at this, I’ll make an exception.” She draped her arms around his neck and tilted her head for his kiss. “Just so you know, we don’t usually kiss our customers either.”
“Where does this vast knowledge of the oldest profession come from? Is there something you should tell me?”
Marla pressed her pelvis against his erection. “I read a lot.”
He grabbed her bottom and kissed her until she was breathless. “I’m going to make love to you until you beg for mercy, Danaher.”
“That’ll cost extra, Dempsey.”
“Stay right there.”
“Where are you going?”
“I want to see what else is in that bag. I may have to run out and find an ATM.”
“You can look, but I’m not wearing that thing.”
He grabbed the bag and brought it to the bed. His hand closed on filmy black and white silk, lace and ruffles. When he lifted it out of the bag, he dropped his head back and hooted with glee.
“Oh, I have plans for this, my little French Maid.” He held up a white lace cap and twirled it on his finger. “Oh, yeah. You will wear it before morning.” He took her hand. “Come here, for five hundred dollars I’m entitled to a favor.” Pulling her close, he ran his hands over her sides, back, and front, then lifted the slip over her head and dropped it on the floor.
Eyes big, she choked out a whisper. “What?”
“Undress me.”
“That’s the favor?”
“Use your imagination.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
In the middle of the night, Dwayne rolled over and laid his left arm across her stomach. For some reason she seldom noticed his two missing fingers. Sighing under his touch, she covered his hand. “How do you do it? I’m exhausted. I’m hungry.” Never having imagined what it would
