A sharp intake of breath met me as I walked down the spiral staircase, my side brushing against the banister. Jameson was leaning against the foyer wall, his sleeves folded up to his elbows. I forced my gaze to move on to his hair before I could get attracted to those muscular forearms.
Dark locks graced Jameson, their ends curling softly on the ends. He must've just gotten out of the shower, judging from his the soap I could smell on his skin.
The scent was a blend of spices I couldn't name, but regardless, each was divine on him.
"I've never seen you speechless," I said to him.
Jameson ignored my comment. His eyes lingered on my lips, painted maroon to match my dress, and then moved downward. As his breath continued to constrict, he studied the shape of my dress, the way in which it clung to all the right places.
His gaze made me want to blush, but I refused to.
He'd asked me on a date without giving me a dress code, so I'd worn what I doubted I ever would again.
To his credit, though, Jameson was also dressed up. Granted, his dress shirt was wrinkled and halfway unbuttoned, but at least there was some effort.
He even wore a tie.
As he exhaled, his breath was uneven. "You look irresistible," he murmured, and somehow his voice had fallen three notches from earlier that morning.
"Don't sound so surprised," I told him, crossing the foyer to grace him with my presence.
"I'm not," he insisted. "You just don't dress up often."
He was right, considering the fact that my idea of dressed up was a pleated school uniform. By my standards, this dress was meant for royalty.
Jameson seemed to think so too, considering his lack of breath.
"So," I said, filling the foyer's silence, "where are you taking me?"
He hadn't given me any input on what this date entailed, but I kind of enjoyed the mystery. It could be as fancy as a limo ride — or as modest as a walk down the tunnels.
Either way, I was already regretting the dress.
It was too short for comfort, even with the wild Texas heat.
Smirking, Jameson took my hands in his. "Where's the fun in telling you?"
"I have to find out sometime," I reminded him.
"Yeah," he agreed, grinning. "That time just isn't now."
My eyebrows permanently fixed on my forehead, I watched as he undid his tie. My heart stammered a beat as the chandeliers from up above ignited his sliver of open chest.
Once Jameson had taken off his tie completely, he shifted his eyes to me. "Turn around, Heiress."
"Why?"
He smirked again. "Don't trust me?"
I closed my mouth and turned ninety degrees. Apparently it wasn't far enough, though, because Jameson's hands settled on my hips to turn me a little farther. Then, when I had no trace of him in my eyesight, he murmured, "Close your eyes."
I decided not to argue. But my heart definitely wanted to. It slammed against my ribcage as I felt him blindfold me with his tie, then loosely knot it at the base of my curled hair.
