After Hours by Rochelle Alers Page B

One thing that made her so adept at what she did was that she was a good listener. She’d learned at a young age that men were guided by ego and that their self-worth was measured by the speed of their cars or the number of women they bedded. No matter their age, they were still boys who needed their toys.
    She closed her eyes, giving in to the smooth motion of the moving automobile.
    She was sleeping soundly by the time Lance entered Matawan’s city limits.

CHAPTER 14
    L ance maneuvered into one of the few remaining parking spaces at LUA, a Hoboken waterfront restaurant/lounge. He was partial to the dining establishment not only because of its location, with views of Manhattan and the cross-Hudson ferry terminal, but because of its Latin-fusion cuisine, more than twenty kinds of tequila and a side room with doorman-barred club for private parties. He’d exceeded the speed limit to arrive before brunch ended.
    Glancing to his right, he stared at Dina. She was still asleep, her chest rising and falling gently, her lips parted and her head at an odd angle. Streams of sunlight fired the gold in her satiny skin. His gaze lingered on the shape of her small, firm breasts, outlined against the body-hugging striped fabric. He tore his gaze away, staring out the windshield.
    A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. He was angry with himself for staring at Dina like a pervert. What, he mused, if she’d caught him? His staring, though unintentional, would only serve to increase her distrust of men.
    As if he’d willed it, he felt her stir. Stretching gracefully like a lithe cat, she came awake, her gaze meeting his. Long, thick lashes brushed the tops of high cheekbones when she sat up straighter. Combing her fingers through her hair, she pushed the heavy waves off her forehead.
    Dina ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, bringing Lance’s gaze to linger there. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I suppose I’m not much for keeping you company.”
    He put up a finger. “Remember, I was the one who offered to take you home. So forget about keeping me company. Are you ready to eat?” he asked, deftly changing the topic.
    She gave him a warm, open smile. “Yes.”
    â€œDon’t move,” he warned when she made a motion to get out of the car.
    Dina sat motionless, wondering what he’d planned. It didn’t take long for her to realize he wanted to help her out of the car when he opened the passenger-side door. Bending slightly, Lance extended his hand and she placed her palm on his, permitting him to pull her effortlessly to her feet. Cradling her fingers, he tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow. The only men who’d opened car doors for her in the past were hotel doormen.
    â€œThank you,” she whispered, giving him a demure glance. “This looks like a very nice place.” The luxury cars in the restaurant’s parking lot were a testament to the restaurant’s elegance.
    Dina had said the first thing that had come to her mind. She had to talk, say anything to hide her growing apprehension. She was disturbed by Lance’s behavior because he was treating her as if she were a fancy lady.
    â€œIt is,” Lance confirmed. Dina pulled back, forcing him to stop. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œIs what I’m wearing okay?”
    â€œOf course it’s okay. Look, I’m not wearing a jacket. We’re having brunch, not dinner.”
    She nodded, following him around to the front of the restaurant. How could she tell him the men she saw usually entertained at clubs or private rooms at hotels or in casinos. And if it was a restaurant, they usually paid the owner to take over the premises for the night. She’d become just another pretty face, smiling and laughing for the host’s pleasure and entertainment.
    What Dina hated most was coming home after a night of partying smelling of cigars, cigarettes and weed. She