Mad about the Banker Page 7

  “Lucas can invest,” Tahlia offers and I roll my eyes.

  “Not an option,” I say, as pleasantly as possible. This topic seems to never die.

  “So you’re interested enough in this guy that you’re letting your business take a back seat to your personal connection,” Whitney clarifies. Damn her and her investigative reporter instincts.

  “He’d assume that I sought him out, which admittedly I did. Then not only wouldn’t I get him to invest in the company, but I wouldn’t get him. I’m not even sure if I want him, like want him for the long haul, but I didn’t tell him the other night and so here we are.” I ramble on while Whitney’s mouth hangs open and Tahl’s hand pauses on the hangers above her head.

  “Oh. My. God.” Tahlia’s mouth moves, but she’s still as a statue.

  “It happened,” Whitney says, so sure of herself.

  “What?” I look between the two, wondering what their problem is.

  “You’ve met him.” Whitney glances at Tahlia and she nods in agreement.

  “Who?”

  “Your unicorn cock,” they say in unison.

  “Hate to break it to you, ladies, but I’ve yet to sleep with him.” Ha. I mentally high-five myself for pointing out how wrong they are.

  Whitney shakes her head slowly. “Now I know for sure you found him.”

  “The whole idea behind the unicorn cock is that you found the one cock, not guy.”

  Whit shakes her head. “It’s him. I know it.”

  I stand up and grab the first dress I see, a navy one with short sleeves, and head to the bathroom.

  A small part of me thrills with the idea that maybe they’re right, but an even bigger piece of me panics.

  Lennon Hart is not a one-man kind of gal. If Jasper is more than just some guy, where does that leave me?

  9

  The V on the black dress I stole from Tahlia dips all the way down to my waist, clearly giving a view of my less than ample boobs, but all in all, I’d bang me.

  Tossing my lipstick, my phone, my keys and a tampon into my purse (but seriously, fuck me if my period decides to arrive tonight), I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  Usually, I wouldn’t care that I live in a studio apartment where I literally fuck where I eat—really, it’s like two steps from the bed to the stove—but Jasper probably lives in a penthouse. I mean, the way his suit fit him perfectly tells me it’s tailor-made especially for him and he probably spends what was my entire inheritance from my grandma on his clothing over the course of a year. So I want to be armed and ready to go so I can slide out into the hallway and my place will remain a mythical, imaginary land to Jasper.

  Knock, knock.

  Shit. I’m not ready. Story of my life.

  I grab my clutch from the counter and hop over to the door on one foot while I try to put on my strappy sandals. My hand is on the door handle when I realize that I left my shawl on the table.

  “Be right there,” I say, scrambling back for the shawl that will cover the majority of my tattoos.

  Right before I open the door, I pause, take another deep breath. This is just a normal date. Not a big deal.

  My hand covers the doorknob and it feels like slow motion when I turn it and open the door. Jasper in a suit isn’t a new look for me, but Jasper freshly showered, clean shaven and smiling is. His gaze slides down and back up my body.

  I swear there was something I was going to do when I opened the door, but hell if I know what that was. All I can think about is how badly I want to grab the lapels of his jacket and drag him to my bed. Too forward?

  “May I come in?” he asks and without thought I slide to the side, opening the door wider for him.

  Then I come to my senses and my hand shoots out to push on his chest.

  “No!”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “I mean, we don’t want to be late.”

  He places his hand over mine, easing it down to my side, and strides into my apartment.

  “It’s not much.” I follow behind him like a yipping Chihuahua on his heels.

  He nods to himself as he glances around. “It’s you.”

  “As in I look like I’m poor?”

  He turns around and places his hands on my shoulders. “I meant it’s eccentric.” He grabs my shawl, sliding it from my arms. “It’s warm tonight, no need for this. Plus, if need be, you’ll have my jacket.”

  I never thought I’d be a girl who’d swoon. I figured if a guy offered me his jacket, it’d be a leather jacket—preferably one from a motorcycle gang. Or like, maybe he’d be referring to a condom as a jacket for his dick and be passing it to me in the heat of the moment. But Jasper Banks has accomplished what very few before him have. He’s made me blush.

  I glance down at my tatted arms, unsure, and then back up to him. “I love your skin, Lennon.” He tosses my shawl to the side so it flutters down onto my couch. “I’m dying to find out the meaning behind each and every one of these.” He trails his finger slowly down my arm and goose bumps break out down my skin like a wave cascading into the shore.

  There’s no way this guy’s for real. He wants to take me to the San Francisco Playhouse in all my tatted-up glory? And everyone calls me crazy.

  “Now that I know where you sleep, we can go.” He spins on his heels and walks the short distance to my front door.

  “You wanted to know where I slept?” I ask, locking up my apartment door.

  “I’m a visual kind of guy.” He winks and I know for sure now that the thong between my legs has zero chance of staying dry tonight.

  We take the elevator down to the lobby, and when I say lobby, I mean past the mailboxes with overflowing piles of junk mail.

  “I’m cabbing it tonight,” he says as we step out into the night. He holds his hand out to hail our ride.

  I guess I’d assumed we’d be taking his expensive sports car. Surely, a guy like Jasper Banks owns a two-seater that goes zero to sixty in four seconds.

  A cab pulls up to the curb and Jasper opens the door for me. I slide in, trying to be extra ladylike and not flash him the goods before he’s even bought me dinner—not that that’s ever stopped me before. Once he climbs in after me, the space becomes cozy and it’s hard not to be aware of how close he’s sitting to me.

  “5A5 Steak Lounge,” he directs the driver who nods and pulls off the curb. Then his attention turns to me. “You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?” The panicked look on his face is amusing.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Vegan,” I say.

  He grimaces and shifts to pull his phone from his pocket. “Where do you like to eat?” His thumbs move across the screen and I place my hand on his, waiting for him to look up at me.

  Once he does, I feel bad for making the joke because he looks almost nervous.

  “I’m kidding. I love meat.” I waggle my eyebrows so my double entendre is clear.

  He smiles and a laugh escapes his throat. “Good to know,” he says with a grin and slips his phone back in his pocket. “Probably something I should’ve asked before making the reservations, but I hate French food and I’m not a huge fan of Asian.”

  “You don’t like Asian food?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Isn’t 5A5 Steak Lounge also Japanese?”

  A smirk crosses his lips and he nods. “All you’ll find on my plate is a steak and maybe a potato.”

  “I’ll take you to a place one day and I bet you you’ll change your mind.”

  He shakes his head again. “Tried them all.”

  “You’re thinking sushi and Chinese food, right?” I turn in my seat to face him as the cab driver whizzes through the hilly streets.

  “Maybe.” He acts coy but I can tell that I’m right.

  “We’ll go to a Korean Bar-B-Que I know. I promise, you’ve never had anything like it before.” I remember the first time a guy in our dorm took Whitney and I to that place. I’m surprised I didn’t walk out mooing when I left from the amount of me
at I ate.

  “So, you’re committing to a second date before you know how the first one ends?” His eyebrows quirk up and I giggle like the schoolgirl I am tonight.

  “I guess I should wait, but following the rules has never been my style.” I shrug.

  He leans in close, his fingertips running along the length of my thigh. “Does that mean you go to second base on the first date?” he whispers in my ear, igniting a rush of goose bumps up my neck.

  I turn and our faces are millimeters away from one another.

  “Oh, Mr. Banks, if you play your hand right, you might score a home run.”

  The scent of his cologne increases, as though it becomes stronger when he’s turned on.

  “I always play to win.” He winks that damn hazel eye at me.

  I may be playing out of my league.

  10

  “Banks,” Jasper tells the hostess after we walk into the restaurant.

  I’ve been to fancy restaurants before. I’ve been to Tahlia’s family’s country club, but this restaurant is beyond beautiful. The large circular room is filled with booths and dark wood tables paired with cream cloth-covered chairs. There’s a long bar on one side of the room with a large screen behind all the bottles. The image on the screen is a fire and it’s hard to drag my eyes away from the flames as they flicker and lick up to the ceiling. The entire restaurant is filled with a warm glow from the many recessed lights. My only complaint, if I had one, would be that I wish we had more privacy.

  The hostess flings her brunette hair over her shoulder, swivels on her stilettos and sways her ass while guiding us to our table. I’m sure she finds many a rich boy to fuck in the coatroom, but bitch can back off because it’s not going to be with Jasper. Standing at the edge of the table, she clutches the menus to her chest, waiting as Jasper holds out my chair for me. Once he’s seated across from me, she hands us each a menu, bending a little further down for Jasper. I don’t wait to see if he takes the bait and looks down her loose blouse.

  I glance over the menu until the hostess has left and then raise my eyes in his direction as he places the menu down on his bread plate.

  “I assume you’ve been here before?” I ask.

  “I have. The prime rib is my favorite.” He busies himself by placing the napkin in his lap and I follow suit and do the same.

  “I’m a filet kind of girl.” Even though I’ve decided on what I’m going to have, I continue to read over the menu, considering trying something I never have. Who knows if I’ll ever go to a restaurant like this again?

  “Yes, you are.” He smiles.

  “What does that mean?” I tilt my head.

  “Filets are feminine without an ounce of fat on them. They’re lean and petite but hold a punch. And they melt in your mouth.”

  I laugh. “I’ve never been so happy to be compared to a slab of meat.”

  The corners of his lips turn up. “I do try to be unique.”

  “That you do.” I place my menu down on the table.

  Our waiter, who introduces himself as Leon, comes over. “Good evening.” He bows slightly at his waist. His hair is salt and pepper, his white shirt crisp and his pants pressed. I bet he’s been doing this for awhile.

  “Good evening,” Jasper says in return, nodding his head.

  Leon relays the specials and asks us what we’d like to drink. I defer to Jasper, allowing him to dictate the bottle of wine, which he does without looking at the menu.

  While we’re waiting on the wine our conversation stays on course as we discuss my tattoos and my work at the studio. It isn’t until he asks me about my family that I realize I haven’t thought this through.

  “Any brothers or sisters?” he asks.

  I grab my water glass to coat my suddenly parched throat. “Brothers,” I say.

  He nods. “You’re the only girl?”

  “Yep.”

  Leon comes over, shows Jasper the bottle of wine and does the whole opening rigmarole that they do at places like this. Jasper tastes and then nods to pour, which Leon does, starting with my glass.

  “What were we saying again?” Jasper asks after Leon takes our order and leaves. “Oh, yeah, I saw your name on the buzzer at your apartment.”

  “You did?” My throat closes and I try my best to suck some air into my lungs even though it feels like a giant boulder sits on my chest. Why the hell didn’t I figure out how I was going to handle this beforehand?

  “Hart? Is that your last name?” he asks, leaning forward and steepling his hands.

  I smile, as genuine and surprised as possible. “You have a knack for details,” I joke and he chuckles, continuing to wait for me to answer the question. “Yes. Lennon Hart,” I finally admit with a choked voice. It might just be Jacob’s hands strangling me right now. You know, a twin thing.

  Jasper’s eyes light up with recognition and I wait for it. In the seconds I have to answer the question at the tip of his tongue, I weigh my options. Lie. I could definitely lie. Hart is not an uncommon name. If this was our only date would it matter? But the fact that he’s been to my family’s house for dinner continues to plague me.

  “Do you know Jacob Hart?”

  The question hangs in the air for an uncomfortable minute as I swallow down the wine I sipped at the last minute to buy me some time. He seems content to wait and lets me finish all while picking up his own drink. His eyes remain on mine over top of his wine glass.

  “You know my brother?” I squeak out before I can change my mind about telling the truth.

  He chokes on his sip of wine and coughs, beating his chest in an effort to catch his breath. Eventually, he swallows it and seems to recover.

  “Brother?” he questions and that light in his eyes dims slightly. “You’re Jacob’s sister?” He takes another sip of his wine.

  I nod. “Twin actually.”

  He doesn’t choke this time, but it looks like he’s having a hard time swallowing the liquid. After a big gulp he places his glass down on the table and leans back in his chair, a safe distance away from choking hazards. Quick learner.

  “Twins? Wow. How did I not know that Jacob was a twin?” he says. I’m a little put off over the fact that Jacob hasn’t at least mentioned that I exist. “I’ve met your parents.” He cringes, like he’s a little put off by that.

  “Sorry,” I respond, not knowing what to say.

  He waves me off. “Your family is great, they remind me a lot of my own. When I took Jacob under my wing…” He pauses. “Did you know I was his mentor?”

  “Oh, you’re that Jasper?” My voice is about three octaves too high as I try to sell the idea that I’m surprised.

  He nods, and the pit of my stomach weighs heavy with the lie. Jasper is the first man who’s piqued my interest for more than his cock in years. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize this could blow up in my face, but I push the thought away.

  “The one and only,” he says. I smile. “Jacob’s been great. He’s a natural and his drive is exceptional.”

  “Have you ever heard of twin competition?” I ask.

  “No.” He laughs like it’s not a real thing.

  “Well, I don’t want to hear how great my brother is unless you want to compliment me equally.” I pretend to flick my hair over my shoulder—pretend because I don’t have hair long enough to manage it.

  “Where do I begin?” His eyes twinkle and I’m glad to see that he understands my sense of humor.

  “Usually at the beginning.” We both chuckle.

  He picks up his wine glass by the stem and tips it to his lips. “I can’t believe you’re Jacob Hart’s sister.” He shakes his head.

  “Neither can I most days,” I say and he laughs again but looks a little preoccupied, obviously still processing the information.

  “Listen… now that I know Jacob’s your brother I feel a little weird being out on a date with you.” His face has an apology written all over it.

  “Gee, thanks,” I deadpan.

>   He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant is, I feel weird that he doesn’t know. Depending on how things go…”

  I see what he’s getting at. “I’d prefer to tell my brother, if you don’t mind. If it becomes necessary.”

  Jasper’s shoulders relax and he smiles across the table. “That’s all I’m asking. I don’t want to feel like I’m sneaking around behind his back, that’s all.”

  “No problem.” Seems Jasper’s a stand-up guy. Even more surprising is the fact that I kinda dig it. “But please don’t mention anything to him before I have a chance to talk to him.” And I will tell him… eventually.

  He does a mock zipper motion with his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

  Now that that’s out of the way I want nothing more than to move this conversation along. “What about you?” I ask. “Family?”

  “Well, I’m originally from Nebraska. My parents were farmers, but they live out here now. Outside of the city, but close.”

  I nod. “That’s a big change.”

  “Yeah, they replaced corn stalks with vineyards, but they’ve embraced it. I’m an only child, so once they knew I wasn’t going to take over the farm, they sold it to my uncle.”

  “Ah, so you didn’t want any part in the family business either,” I say. I lift my wine glass to take a sip.

  “Yeah, your other brothers followed your dad into the police force, right?”

  He knows way too much about my family.

  “Mark and Kurt did. The fact that I’m female kept most of the pressure from coming my way, but I know Jacob struggled with that for awhile. My tits might not be huge, but they did the trick.” I wink at him.

  His gaze dips to my chest for a second before it returns to my face. “They look perfect if you ask me. The perfect handful.” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth because the look he’s giving me makes me want to slink under the table and do some seriously inappropriate stuff to him below waist level.

  “Maybe you’ll get to find out some time,” I say in a breathy voice that gives me away.