Zuri Day - Secret Silver Nights

“I am,” Monique responded, hiding her surprise. “Has he arrived?”

“He has indeed, Ms. Slater, and instructed me to have you join him at once. Please, come this way.”

Monique held her smile, discreetly looking around the restaurant and nodding at those who met her eye. She was also trying to see Niko, trying to get in that first look, the one that seemed to take her breath away no matter how often she saw him. But they walked through the entire main restaurant and she hadn’t seen a trace. When the maître d’ turned down a short hallway, Monique was even more confused. I wasn’t aware of another section. This place must be bigger than I thought.

They reached an ornately decorated set of brass double doors. The maître d’ knocked twice, paused a couple of seconds and then turned the knob. “After you,” he said, holding the door as he stood back.

Monique walked through the door and was immediately grateful for the discipline that allowed her to calmly watch as Niko stood next to a table set for two and continue the steps to meet him. Especially when her insides quivered, her panties instantly moistened and once again the air managed to leave the room. He was handsome. Even a blind woman could see that. But living in L.A. and spending as much time on the beach as her schedule allowed, she saw gorgeous, well-chiseled Adonises all the time. What was it about this man, Monique wondered, that made her lose all semblance of control? It was a trait that had served her well all of her life and now it was as if she couldn’t even spell the word let alone possess an ounce of its attributes. The room was small and intimate, yet in the steps it had taken to reach him she’d been able to steady her breathing and find her tongue.

“Good evening,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thanks again for inviting me to dinner.”

After giving an almost imperceptible nod to the maître d’, Niko enveloped her small, dainty hand in his strong, masculine one before lifting it to his lips for the wispiest of kisses. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Slater.” He stepped away from her and pulled out her chair. “Please.”

She sat, trying very hard not to imagine that she was Cinderella and Niko her prince. “Thank you.”

She lowered her head to place the napkin on her lap. But that didn’t stop her from stealing a couple of discreet glances as he walked over to his chair and sat down. She noticed that he too had changed from the flattering slacks, shirt and pullover that he’d worn at the beauty salon. The navy-colored suit that now graced his body was immaculate and looked so soft that she wanted to squeeze his arm. Not only to touch the fabric but to see if the biceps she’d perceived beneath the cloth was real. In a field dominated by men wearing nice suits, she should have not been bothered in the slightest. But there was something about Niko that made him stand out. It was the combination, she decided, smiling over her glass as she took a sip of water. Looks, brains, money and class mixed with just the right amount of swagger and sex appeal. Lethal. Dangerous. And damned if she didn’t want to go ahead and play with fire, even knowing that there was a strong possibility that she could get burned.

“This is nice,” she said into the silence, as she looked around to keep from connecting with the dark bedroom eyes that gazed upon her. “I didn’t know this room existed.”

“Not many do, unless you’re a lifetime member. My parents have belonged to the club forever, so the children gained entry pretty much by default.”

“How many children are in your family?” Monique eased back against the cushioned chair, thankful that she finally felt that she was in familiar territory—subtle interrogation.

“There are eight of us.” Niko leaned back, as well. “All of us live here in Paradise Cove except for Reginald, whose wife has deep and abiding ties with New Orleans, where they reside, and my youngest brother, Julian, who’s studying in New York.” He took a sip of lemon water. “What about you?”

“One brother, a doctor. He practices at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.”

“A doctor and a lawyer, huh? Your parents must be proud.”

“They are. Both were overachievers and encouraged their children to be the same. Are any of your siblings involved in politics?”

The smooth grin that spread across Niko’s face was enough to make a nun rethink her celibacy. He looked absolutely decadent, Monique imagined, and she would have bet a year’s salary he tasted just as sweet. “Come on, now. You’re an attorney. We’ve both done our homework, scoped out the terrain. If there was another Drake involved in politics, that information would be on the internet, and you would know about it.”

“Which is why I’m sure my brother’s occupation is no surprise. Nothing wrong with including the question in a bit of friendly conversation, is there?” Monique’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked at him, a move that was totally against the game plan. Do not flirt with him, Monique Slater. Do. Not. Flirt! Before this thought could completely make the rounds from her head to the body parts that needed the directive, a giggle had escaped her lips and she’d reached up to place an errant tendril of hair behind her ear.

Wait, was that me? Did I just giggle? I never giggle. I’m too old and too grown to giggle. She gave herself a silent chiding and vowed to behave.

Niko eyed her intently but said nothing as the sommelier entered the room and presented Niko’s wine choice. After he tasted and nodded his approval, the handsome young blond nodded, turned on his heel and quietly left the room.

Pouring their glasses of wine hadn’t taken long, but fortunately it had been enough for Monique to regain her professional-woman, top-notch defense-attorney senses. By the time he held up his glass, she was ready for those sexy brown eyes, cushy-full lips and dimple that winked every time that he smiled. Salivating, lust-filled, but ready.

She picked up her glass. “To what shall we toast?”

“What about to what was earlier suggested? A fair, clean, positive campaign?”

“Sure.”

They clinked glasses and took small sips of the vintage-year cabernet.

Monique took a second drink and set down her glass. “You said that too fast for it to have been an off-the-cuff response.”

“It’s one of the reasons I invited you here. I know that modern-day politics have been reduced to negative ads and smear campaigns. But that’s not my style. And while I don’t know very much about you—the second reason why I requested the pleasure of your company—I get the feeling that it’s not your style, either.”

“I definitely plan to run on the merits of my education, experience and qualifications to lead this town into an exciting and prosperous future.”

“What type of excitement do you have planned?”

There it was again, a flirtatiousness executed so deftly and gone so quickly that she questioned whether it was real or imagined. Perhaps this was just his personality and, as such, she shouldn’t get her hopes up that he was interested in her in that way.

And just what way is that, Monique Slater? This question in her mind she heard in her mother’s no-nonsense voice. It was a good question. Because Monique wasn’t interested in Niko like that. She’d had a crush on him, sure. Probably along with thousands of other college-aged girls. She found him attractive. So what? Anyone with eyes would feel the same. But any thoughts of anything ever happening between the two of them were beyond wishful thinking; they were flat-out ridiculous. She wasn’t his type, nor he hers if she really thought about it. Even though she’d ended their relationship, she belonged with a man more like Rob: solid, steady and...safe. And most of all? They were adversaries in a political campaign. It would be the height of scandal if anything untoward ever happened between them. No, their interactions would be totally innocent and strictly professional. How it should be. How it must be.