After dinner, they said goodbye to their table companions and took the elevator down.
"Not ready to call it a night," Jackson said as they stepped outside. "There's a speakeasy around the corner. Nightcap?"
The speakeasy was intimate and dark, with velvet booths and candles providing the only light. They claimed a corner booth, sitting close enough that her leg pressed against his.
"So," she said, sipping her martini, "how did you really pull this off? That supper club is nearly impossible to get into."
"Magic," he wiggled his fingers.
"Seriously."
"Let's just say I'm not without resources."
She studied him. "You're different than I expected."
"How so?"
"At first, I pegged you as just another rich playboy. All style, no substance."
"And now?"
"Now I'm intrigued." She leaned clos
