"I already told you. It's home." He flicked his gaze toward the elevator. "Now come on."
Inside the elevator, Jake pressed the uppermost button and leaned back against the back wall. With growing confusion, I watched the floor-numbers change on the lit display. "We're not really going to the penthouse?" I said.
He glanced down. "We're not? Damn." He looked down at his bloodied shirt. "Because I could really use a shower."
So much for a straight answer. Even though we were alone in the elevator, something made me lower my voice. "Tell me the truth," I said, "weren't you surprised he didn't say anything?"
"Who?" he asked.
"The doorman," I said. "I mean, look at us. I'm kind of surprised he'd let us in at all."
In fact, not only had he let us in, he'd been surprisingly oblivious to our appearance. Or at least he sureseemedoblivious.
"Hell," Jake said. "I've looked a lot worse than this." His gaze slid to me. "As foryou, there's nothing to complain about there."
I glanced down. I was still wearing Jake's shirt. It fell nearly to my knees, covering my skirt entirely. I could only imagine how I looked – like some hoochie in high heels, wearing her lover's shirt and nothing else.
Just great. The doorman probably thought I was a damn hooker.
With a ding, the elevator doors slid open, revealing a marble entryway leading to a single set of double doors.
"Come on," Jake said.
I didn't move. I couldn’t. This was getting way too strange. I gave Jake a dubious look.
"Or," Jake said, "you could stay in the elevator. Ride it up and down a while. Your choice."
When I still didn't move, he claimed my hand and tugged me out of the elevator. At the double doors, he reached into his pants pockets and pulled out a wallet. He removed a key card and slid it into a control pad to the right.
But it wasn't until he pushed open those double doors that I heard myself speak. It was one word, and it was all I had.
"Wow."
