I lift my eyes from her hand resting on the black leather seat between us to her face to see a sly smile has appeared on her lips. “What thought?”
“The one that just had dirty written all over it.” Her smile grows wide, her eyes glittering with heat and a touch of amusement at the position she’s cornered me into.
“It’s a thought that would be more suited to the end of the date, if we are following your predetermined description of a how a first date should be, that is.”
Heat overtakes amusement as the air inside the car crackles with the right type of tension, the exact type of mood I have been hoping for and dreading. Our eyes remained locked, like neither one of us is able or willing to look away from the other.
Knowing I’d need to acquiesce, I look back down to where her hand rests beside her leg and bite the bullet, reaching over and lacing my fingers with hers.
“See?” she says as I catch her smile out of the corner of my eye. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”
“It’s like that, is it?” I say, my voice filled with humor. She leans over, turning her body toward mine and rests her mouth against my jaw, just below my ear.
“If you want something from me, Callum, you just need to ask for it or take it. I highly doubt any of the thoughts running through that very handsome, highly intelligent head of yours could put me off.” Her breath warms my skin, sending the nerve endings into overdrive. “You’re welcome to try though . . .”
Before I can attempt to put my public mask in place, I tilt my head until we are cheek to cheek. Presented with an opportunity, I follow my instincts and graze my teeth slowly against her ear lobe. “I was thinking how your hand would feel touching me again . . .”
Her breath stutters momentarily, before quickening. She pulls back, leaning her shoulder into the seat but not returning to her side. “I’m sure we can arrange to hold hands again, Callum. It’s all part of getting to know each other.”
I mimic her pose, our bodies still close but not touching, as I let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. “You’re trouble with a capital T.”
“And I’m thinking, Mr. Alexander, there’s something about my brand of trouble that you’re drawn to.”
“Indeed.”
“I like that,” she murmurs, before spinning toward me.
“What?”
“Your honesty. I like your openness with me. When I met you at that function you seemed uncomfortable, closed off. Totally different to how you are now.”
I smile at her. “You make it hard to be anything but honest.”
“I’m glad.” Her smirk returns and I shake my head, her playful mood contagious. “So should we do the ‘getting to know you’ thing?” she asks, catching me off guard.
“We could do, but considering you knew my name when you met me, how about you tell me what you don’t know about me?”
“How about you go first? Let’s call it an icebreaker, shall we?”
In the conversation that follows, I find out that she is twenty-nine, Gino is her only sibling, and she’s born and bred in San Francisco but her parents now live in Florida. They own the restaurant with their parents as silent partners. I also discover she loves old movies—Casablanca being her favorite—and she is a big 49ers fan.
Throughout the question and answer session that lasts the entire car ride, she’s animated, vivacious, entertaining, and evidentially comfortable in her own skin. The more she talks, the more at ease I become.
She also doesn’t hesitate in launching into a barrage of questions about my life—my family, my firm, the Spera Building, and asking about the maritime museum project. In fact, the only time we stop talking is when the driver lowers the glass and announces that we have arrived at our destination.
As soon as we step out of the car, the press asks me who I’m wearing and who my date is. I answer the first question and give a canned, non-confirmatory response to the second.
Then we make our way to our rented corporate suite, which has a perfect view over the ballpark, and a banquet fit for a king laid out for us.
Our conversation continues to flow throughout the game. There are no awkward lulls where it feels forced. It’s effortless, easy. So damn easy that I almost pinch myself to make sure I’m stuck in the recent dream of mine that ended with Lucia’s naked body writhing beneath me as I wrapped my . . .
I refuse to allow myself to go there. Not with her. She’s too much like a breath of fresh air to a suffocating man to imagine tainting her with my depravity.
“Where did you just go?” she asks from beside me.
It’s the bottom of the seventh, and we’re both standing out on the balcony, avoiding the interior of the suite where giggling and growls can be heard coming from the direction of Grant and his date, Jessica, who unsurprisingly is a Zumba teacher with long platinum blond hair and legs that go on for days. In fact, if those noises are anything to go by, Jessica could be teaching Grant some new exercise moves that have multiple uses right now.
“Pardon?” I turn toward her and look down to see her head tilted as she watches me, her five foot six inch stature paling in comparison to my six foot, two. Reaching forward, she gently places her hand on my forearm, making me twitch. She quickly goes to move it, but I find myself reaching out and keeping it there, not wanting to be devoid of her touch when it was given so genuinely. She is so fucking tempting that every sip she takes from her wine glass has me thinking impure thoughts; ones that I know would not be worth voicing, even if a part of me feels she wouldn’t be as abhorred by me as I am myself.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to enjoying these kind of events, let alone enjoying the company I bring with me.”
With a quirk of her brow, she lets a surprised look pass over her face before schooling her features, one set to put even the most uptight and intense architect at ease. “I’m flattered, Callum. I’m getting the impression you might actually be enjoying this first date of ours.”
“I’d hope so,” I reply dryly. “Since it’s the first ‘first’ date I’ve been on in a long time, and to a public event, no less.”
“Oh, come now, you were on the back cover of the Tribune last month with a gorgeous brunette woman on your arm, and then the time before that there was a stunning blond woman who looked like she would have moves just as impressive as Jessica in there,” she replies, with a tilt of her head toward the inside of the suite where thankfully, the noises have quieted slightly.
I lift my near empty tumbler of Chivas Regal to my mouth as she’s speaking and nearly choke when she mentions my past two dates. My lips curl up into a slow smile as I place my glass back on the wooden balcony bannister. “Anyone would think you were a little jealous, Ms. Harding.”
“No, it’s not th—”
I place my fingertip against her lips, halting her attempt at a rebuttal.
“Just in case you were jealous, which of course you aren’t . . .” My eyes dance with amusement as I watch hers flare, our faces inching closer as my finger slowly pulls downward, dragging her lower lip along with it until I lose contact with her skin.
I watch with avid fascination as her lip returns to its place of origin and her tongue darts out, running the width of her mouth, leaving a wet sheen in its wake. It takes every ounce of control I have not to bend down and take my first taste of her. I know kissing her will be as enticing and addictive as the woman herself.
“The brunette is my older sister, Heather. The blonde, who I won’t be able to look in the eye again without thinking of flexible Jessica in there, is my sister-in-law, Julia. But thank you for the lovely imagery I’ll now have whenever I attend a family function. Oh, and for the record”—I reach up and tuck a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear, leaning closer and dropping my voice to a husky whisper—“you’re adorable when jealous, even when it is totally unwarranted.”