42nd & Lex by Bria Hofland Read Free Book Online Page B

slightly more in
depth answer. But just in case you do get nervous, I promise you are safe with
me.”
    We turn onto what looks to be more an alley
than a street in lower Manhattan. Lucan pulls up to a building with a red
awning. There is no name on it, just the address: 726 Carlisle. The building has
a heavy black door that looks to be made of iron and no windows. Maybe this is
one of those new avant-garde restaurants where you dine in the dark laying on
beds. Whatever it is, it appears to be the only thing open on the street, not exactly
a trendy new party district.
    A valet approaches the car as we stop. He
nods to Lucan and opens my door. This low sports car has me seriously
regretting my short dress and sky-high heels. A well-placed breeze tells me the
valet probably got more than he bargained for as I swing my legs out of the
car. Embarrassed, I try not to meet his eyes.   
    “Welcome, madam.” The valet gives a slight
bow. He is wearing an expensive looking suit rather than the typical valet
ensemble of polo shirt/windbreaker with the company logo. He offers me his hand
as I maneuver to the edge of the seat. As our hands touch another electric
shock jolts through my limbs similar to when I kissed Lucan. This one is more
static electricity and less romantic fireworks but it still has me jumping out
of the car and away from the valet fast. I hear him suck in his breath as if
the shock has surprised him too.
    “Thank you.” I smile and step onto the curb.
The look on his face sends a chill up my spine. He bows slightly then walks to
the other side of the car. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time. Lucan is at
my side before I can take my first step towards the door. Geez, that man moves
fast. 
    The black iron door doesn’t have a handle, just
a place to scan an access card and camera mounted on the wall. Lucan pulls a
card key out of his pocket and swipes. It has the same red crest as the calling
card he left at my office this morning. Maybe he owns this place. The camera
whirs around to take a look at us. After a few seconds door clicks and swings open.
He ushers me inside with his hand on the small of my back. A warm tingle goes
up my spine, replacing the creepy feeling left by the valet’s touch.
    The lobby is brightly lit and ornate with
marble floors, gilded light fixtures, and mirrors on the walls. There is an
empty receptionist desk and a table with large arrangement of flowers in the
center of the room and a few plush couches clustered in one corner. At the far
end of the long room is another iron looking door, although it doesn’t appear to
have a security system. I can’t tell if we are in his apartment building or an
office building. Once the outside door is closed, I can hear the sound of
glasses and silver clinking in the distance along with the din of conversation.
    “This is a lot of security for a restaurant,”
I blurt out without really thinking. 
    Lucan
has a shy grin on his face. “Aye, love, it is.”
    I steal a glance at Lucan in the mirrors. He
catches me looking and I’m tingling again. My skin is almost humming from the
energy. I make a mental note to ask Lucan about this reoccurring phenomenon. I
am beginning to think it has nothing to do with dry air and friction.
    “So
what is this place?” I ask as we cross the long room towards the other door.
Lucan opens the second door and a young woman in a slinky black dress greets us.
She is stunning with smooth, perfect skin, bouncy, shiny hair and deep green
eyes.  
    “A
restaurant,” he answers wryly.
    “This
way Mr. O’Reilly. Your table is ready,” she purrs, barely above a whisper.
    There
are other people enjoying dinner and drinks at various tables and booths as
make our way across the room. They are all dressed to the nines and very regal
looking. I don’t recognize any celebrities, but this place must be very
exclusive indeed. We stop at an intimate looking table by a roaring fireplace. I
am grateful for the heat