Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Lower, actually, but I like it better. First, you can see the Empire State Building from the Rock, and you get a way better view of Central Park. Plus…I guess it’s just that…well, everyone goes to the Empire State Building. I like to be unique.”
“You, Mary, are the definition of unique.”
Simple words, yet the way he looks at me… I can’t hold back a shudder.
I glance at my phone, check the time. “If we hurry, we can catch the last elevator.”
…
Ronan gets more than a few glances from both women and men as we ascend to the seventieth floor of the Rockefeller Center.
When the elevator door opens, he gasps, visibly in awe at the 360-degree panoramic view of New York City. The entire seventieth floor of the building is dedicated to the observation deck, which is designed with expansive floor-to-ceiling glass panels. Ronan walks forward, out of the elevator, so quickly that for a moment I think he’s going to walk right through the glass.
Next to him, I take in the view of the gorgeous Manhattan skyline. In the dark, the top of the Empire State Building shines with its iconic blue lighting.
“This isn’t Glasgow,” Ronan says softly.
“I’m sure Glasgow is beautiful too,” I reply.
“It is, but this is something else. It’s so vast, and the feats of architecture…” He turns to me. “It’s so very…American. I grew up down South, and I’ve spent most of my adulthood in the UK. What I appreciate about this view is its newness.”
“New York City isn’t new. It’s nearly four hundred years old.”
“You probably don’t realize, having never lived anywhere else, but America is a young country, Mary. Four hundred years is new compared to a city like Glasgow that’s been around for over fifteen hundred years. And there is beauty in newness.”
“I suppose there is. I just don’t know anything else. Too bad we couldn’t see the sunset. Or the lush green of Central Park. You should come back here during the day sometime.”
He continues to stare at the skyline. He really is mesmerized.
“Do you want to go to the outdoor observation deck?” I ask.
He grabs my hand. “Lead the way.”
I’m tempted to snatch my hand away. Not because I fear him…but because I don’t. The feel of his large hand around mine is warm and soothing as well as intriguing and arousing.
I suck in a breath as we walk outside and observe the view from different vantage points. We don’t talk much, and it’s okay. There’s a comfort in the silence I’ve never had with anyone else.
When the last elevator descends for the last time today, Ronan and I are on it.
And he’s still holding my hand.
“Will you allow me to see you home?” he asks once we’re back on the street.
Everything I know about safety tells me not to.
But my body is throbbing for him, and my heart tells me it’s okay to trust him.
I’m about to open my mouth and tell him yes when—
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. This is New York City, and I’m a complete stranger. I’ll get you a cab.”
I bite my lip. “That’s probably best.”
He calls for a cab, and while we’re waiting, “We didn’t get to talk about you much tonight. It was all about me. What do you do here in the city?”
“I work at a shop called Treasure’s Chest. But I’m off on weekends.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “What kind of a shop is that?”
My cheeks warm. Not because I’m embarrassed by where I work, but because he’s putting me on the spot. I liked talking about him, learning about him. Talking about me? Not so much. But I answer him, anyway. “It’s a lingerie shop that also sells clubwear and…toys and stuff for the leather community. I also teach classes there. For people new to the lifestyle.”
For a moment, I think he may actually smile, but the smile in his eyes doesn’t quite make it to his lips. I should know better by now than to think he would smile so easily. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again tomorrow night,” he says.
The cab pulls up at the curb. Time to say goodbye—for now.
“I’d like that,” I tell him. “I’ll be at the club tomorrow at eight o’clock.”
“Then I’ll see you there.” He gives me a searing gaze. “Good night, Blossom.”
I get into the cab, and Ronan closes the door for me before he walks off. I watch him for a moment, watch the way he moves in that kilt and his Jacobite shirt. Then I give the cabbie my address and close my eyes for the drive home, thinking about Ronan’s long, thick, silky hair and what it might feel like between my fingers.
And a million other things I want to feel with him.
Chapter Seven
Ronan
I’m staying in the Countess Regalia hotel in Manhattan. I’ve got my realtor in the city, looking for an apartment for me. She’ll be showing me some places tomorrow.