A Dance with Indecency Read Online Free PDF Page B

already been lit. New York was cast in pale blue and lit by hundreds of thousands of bright lights. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
    Harry sped through the streets, once again stopping in front of his towering hotel. Elise arched an inquisitive eyebrow.
    “Another petting party?” she asked as he opened her door.
    “Not even close,” he said, smiling secretively.
    She took his hand and he pulled her from the car. Placing his hand at her back, he leaned in to whisper at her ear.
    “You’ll never guess what I have planned.”
    His confident, self-satisfied smirk was at once irritating and intriguing. Elise arched her brows. As he turned to march into the hotel, she matched his pace—now genuinely curious. They walked through the lobby and toward the elevators with arms linked, both completely oblivious to the fascinated stares fixed upon them. Indeed, they cut a striking image: two of the most talked about figures in the New York social scene, dressed to the nines and promenading through a hotel. They were the objects of much envy and gossip—not that either cared at the moment.
    Still smiling, Harry directed the elevator attendant to take them to one of the highest floors of the hotel. He hummed softly to himself, leaving Elise to wonder about their destination. The excitement in his eyes seemed genuine, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he had up his sleeve this time. His enthusiasm was contagious, and she felt the treacherous stirrings of interest in her chest. Once the elevator doors opened, he led her through a myriad of snaking corridors until they reached a set of heavy double doors.
    “Ready?” he asked with all the eagerness of a schoolboy.
    Elise nodded, fighting the traitorous flutters of excitement in her stomach. Harry pushed the double doors open, at once revealing a scene that made her insides clench giddily. Harry walked forward, ushering her in. Elise took a few slow steps, her wide eyes struggling to take in everything at once.
    A stone terrace. Wrought-iron decorative railings. A plate of buttery croissants and two mugs of coffee on a small café table.
    Harry had brought her to the Café de la Paix.
    Except this was not Paris. This was New York. And he had done something uncharacteristic of the arrogant, uncaring sod she thought him to be. Elise turned bewildered eyes on to her beaming host. He grinned and marched over to another table covered in a sheet. He tugged away the cover with a flourish, revealing a miniature Eiffel Tower.
    “Just in case you weren’t sure,” he announced happily.
    “You’ve brought me to Paris,” she murmured, still taking it all in.
    “ Oui , madame ,” Harry said in a mock French accent as he walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. “Now won’t you have brunch with me?”
    She smiled softly.
    “Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” she quipped, her tone light.
    Harry feigned a frustrated grimace.
    “I work all day to put this together for you, and this is the thanks I get?”
    “All day?” Elise laughed. “You worked all day just to bring me something that I miss?”
    Harry inclined his head to the side, gracing her with his most dashing grin.
    “I would do anything to win your favor, madame ,” he said.
    Elise willed her heart to stop hammering in her chest as she slowly walked over to where he waited. With a wry upturn of her lips, she sat down and watched carefully as Harry circled the table to sit opposite her. When she did not make a move, Harry cheerfully plucked a pastry from the pile and set it on her plate.
    “Freshly made!” he told her with a wink.
    Elise tore off a piece of the crumbly croissant and brought it to her lips, struggling against the tremor in her hands and not trusting her voice. In front of her, Harry blithely sipped his coffee with a bright grin. Elise swallowed nervously, her chest tight.
    This was not the man she had hated for so long.
    Harry McMahon did not remember her favorite things. He did not make