feeling weary, restless, and as if maybe Sarah was right not to want to come to his apartment, he sighed. “I’m inviting you to my apartment to eat dinner.” He put emphasis on the word. “You’re tired. I’m tired. We’ve both had a long day. I want a good meal, to relax, and a good night’s rest, Sarah. Nothing more. My invitation to feed you is with no strings attached and no hidden motives to trick you into my bed.”
He’d never had any need to trick women into his bed. There was always one ready and willing to fill the empty spot in his life.
Tonight he’d just wanted to be alone.
Which didn’t quite jibe with his burning desire for Sarah to say yes.
“Because I’m not your type?” she questioned, confirming his earlier thoughts.
“You’re not my type.” He meant to say more, to elaborate on the reasons why, to elaborate on the fact that she intrigued him and he’d like to let down her hair, see her smile, hear her laughter so he’d know what it sounded like, but her sigh of relief had him holding his tongue.
“Fine.” She didn’t sound or look happy about agreeing so the smile and laughter might not be forthcoming anytime soon. “In that case, I’ll eat with you, but I’m eating, checking out this view you bragged about, and then I’m leaving, capisce?”
* * *
Sarah had bought her beloved apartment for three main reasons. Its walking distance proximity to Manhattan Mercy, it fitting within her budget, barely, and the spectacular view.
Just like the man, Jude’s view really did blow her away.
As did his apartment.
At some point, someone had taken two, maybe three, apartments and converted them into one luxurious one. His living room dwarfed hers, as did the floor-to-ceiling views of the twinkling New York City nightlife. Just wow.
Forget needing food. She’d just sit here, sip on the glass of wine he’d given her to keep her occupied while he finished up their meal, stare out at the skyline, and soak up the energy of the busy city she adored, to revive her exhausted soul.
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