Could he be serious? “No one joins an election in September.”
His shrug wrinkled the perfect lines of his suit. Summer idly wondered what he would look like if she wrestled him to that big bed and messed up the rest of his tailored outfit. The Mistress of the Bordello would never let a man walk away without tousling him a bit, would she?
“Confidence is a good thing in my business, Summer.” He eyed her as he smoothed a hand over the red satin duvet covering the mattress. And while she knew technically they were discussing politics, she had the distinct impression Jackson’s confidence extended to the bedroom, as well.
No way could she delude herself that the man was the dry, buttoned-up type anymore. As of right now, she was toast where he was concerned. She wanted her one night with him. Badly.
While she debated how to make that one night a reality, Jackson blithely went back to discussing politics.
“Besides, I’ve got a solid track record in smaller elections. I’ve never lost yet.” His gaze strayed to the pile of lingerie on the coffee table. “Is it going to be my turn to ask the questions any time soon?”
She smiled at that even as she wondered if confidence might be an aphrodisiac. If anyone else had boasted about never losing, Summer would have written it off as conceit. Yet Jackson seemed to be just relating facts, quietly sure of his ability.
And she had to admit, there was something damn attractive about that. Not that she necessarily wanted to be turned on by a man so intrinsically wrong for her. She lived to create scandal while he worked diligently to avoid it.
Still, she couldn’t deny she wanted him.
Would it hurt to follow this attraction for just one night? How much trouble could one night cause to a girl’s heart?
“Can I ask you one more nosy question and then I’ll let you off the hook?”
“Ask away.” Tearing his gaze from the lingerie pile, he quirked a sandy eyebrow, waiting.
She picked at the ragged hem of her silky handkerchief skirt, certain he wouldn’t be waiting patiently much longer. Her every feminine instinct told her he was ready to make a move, no matter how lazily he strolled the room right now.
Soon, Summer would be enjoying that supreme male confidence of his in a much more physical way. She glanced up at him through her lashes, hoping she had her seductive moves in place. “How exactly did you plan to blow off steam tonight?”
Jackson couldn’t remember any pointed press conference question that had put him more on the spot than this one. His glance tripped over her willowy form draped across the settee, his eyes lingering on the satin ties that she’d refastened on her strapless crimson top.
By the time he managed to meet Summer’s not-so-innocent gray gaze he decided he owed her the truth, even while he extended their cat-and-mouse game a little longer.
“After two weeks of mental turmoil, I wanted to escape to a realm of pure physical sensation. Blaring music, flashing lights, a shot of straight whiskey—anything that might drown out the rest of the world for a little while.”
“I think you’re forgetting one very obvious physical sensation that South Beach nightlife often provides.” She retrieved the satin ties that lay across her arm and absently wound one end around her finger.
He caught the invitation behind the words. And he’d bet many a man would have made a dive for her right then and there.
But despite Summer’s come-hither outfit and the wild pink braids in her blond mermaid hair, Jackson guessed there were more layers to this woman than the sexy veneer. Her knowledgeable questions about his work had surprised him. Pleasantly so. And she couldn’t be the seduction queen her outfit implied if she was still sitting politely on her antique settee after he’d been in this pleasure palace of hers for nearly an hour.
If he leaped at his first chance with her, he might find one night of incredible physical sensation. And granted, that’s what he’d thought he wanted when he’d walked into Club Paradise tonight—pleasure without commitment.
Their conversation had made him rethink the strategy. Her scandal-making, adventurous nature fascinated him, appealed to his own wild side that he’d kept under wraps by necessity because of his family. His job.
But hell, his old man had basically incinerated the family name so he didn’t need to worry about that anymore. And as for his job, maybe he wouldn’t even have a shot at the election given the scandal surrounding him.
It seemed he was suffering all the effects of negative press and he hadn’t had any of the fun of creating it.
Maybe he wanted something more from Summer Farnsworth than a night of incredible sex. He didn’t know what that might be, but he had the feeling he would never have the chance to find out if he rushed headlong into a physical relationship.
He studied her now while Ella Fitzgerald sang, could see the surprise in her eyes that he hadn’t made a move on her yet. The curiosity.
He moved closer to her. Sank into the chair she’d pointed out to him earlier. Leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees, Jackson wanted to make it clear that just because he didn’t jump her right away didn’t mean he wasn’t interested. “The prospect of sex definitely entered my mind when I walked into the club tonight.”
“How about when you walked into the bordello?” Summer shifted her legs, re-crossing them in the other direction and giving him plenty of opportunity to glimpse toned calves and a hint of creamy thighs below the jagged hem of her skirt.
Delayed gratification wasn’t going to be a stroll in the park when it came to this woman. But he had goals to achieve, damn it. He didn’t have any intention of wavering from his chosen path.
“What was I thinking when a gorgeous woman ushered me into a red velvet bordello and conversed with me over a pile of exotic lingerie?” He flicked an errant bra strap sliding off the edge of the coffee table. “I’ll bet you have a good idea what I’m thinking. That doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.”
He nearly changed his mind when he saw a flash of disappointment—quickly concealed—in her light-gray eyes.
She released the red satin ties to her outfit she’d been playing with and tugged her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “How…noble of you.”
“Not noble. Just patient. Ten seconds into our conversation tonight I realized I wanted to know you better than any night of rushed sex would ever allow.” As he spoke the words, he embraced the objective all the more. There was something very intriguing about this woman who dressed like a gypsy, flirted with a vengeance and owned a quarter of the hottest new spot on South Beach. Not the least of which was the fantasy he’d heard her relate to her girlfriend about being overpowered. What might it be like to play out that particular scenario with her? “I’d rather not miss out on the chance to get to know you by fast-forwarding through the preliminaries.”
Relinquishing the garment she’d been clutching about herself, her jaw dropped for a split second before she snapped it shut again. “You’re not looking for sex. You just came into the bordello to talk?”
She spelled it all out as if to be certain of the facts. Damn. Was his request so unusual? And if it was, didn’t that say something pretty freaking sorry about the condition of the dating scene in the new millennium?
“Honestly, sex would be very welcome at some point down the road.” He concentrated on making eye contact with her so his gaze didn’t unwittingly roam her tempting body. “I just hoped we could go out sometime.”
“You and me?” Her tone told him she thought the idea ludicrous. She shook her head. “You’ll never stop making scandalous headlines if you hit the town with me, Jackson. My clothes alone draw enough attention to keep me in