Tall, Dark and Irresistible (Tall, Dark and Sexy 2)

He had a flash of a thought that he’d really like to put her somewhere much more interesting, like his lap. Maybe reenact that day in the park and see what the outcome might have been if he’d been able to slide his hands up her thighs and beneath her skirt—He abruptly cut off that line of thinking and forced himself to dismiss the hot images of her sitting astride him. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

“No, you’re not paying,” he insisted as she stepped up on the running board to give herself a boost into the leather seat. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m having my secretary reverse the charges on your credit card. This ride is on me.”

She glanced at him, and he didn’t miss the relief that passed across her features. This pickup request hadn’t been cheap, and now that he realized who’d requested him, Leo wasn’t about to make her cough up the astronomical fee meant for wealthy executives.

“Thank you,” she said, her soft smile expressing her gratitude as she fastened her seat belt. “I really do appreciate it.”

He smiled back, struck by her expressive, pretty blue eyes. “It’s the least I can do for a friend.”

He shut her door, and after putting her bags in the back of the SUV, he slid into the driver’s seat and maneuvered them away from the airport and toward a casual restaurant where they could talk about whatever was on her mind. Currently, she was looking out the window and fidgeting in her seat, clearly anxious about something. She was starting to make him feel restless, too, and he tried to put her at ease.

“I take it you live in New York, or were you just visiting there?” he asked, genuinely curious about her life since college.

She finally glanced at him. “No, I live there now. I moved to the city a few years ago, after graduating. I got a job at a new up-and-coming fashion house as a junior apparel designer, which has been a great experience and exactly what I’ve always wanted to do.” As if realizing she was wearing a sweatshirt and leggings, a far cry from the height of fashion, she gave him an impish look. “Uhh, and don’t judge me by my current wardrobe, which is strictly for travel.”

“Hey, no judgment here, as long as you don’t analyze my casual, laid-back wardrobe and lack of style.” He was definitely a no-frills kind of guy, unlike his brother Aiden, who always looked so well put together in his tailored suits and ties and actually enjoyed wearing them.

“Hey, you’ve got plenty of swagger,” she said as she reached over and rubbed the soft material of his jacket between her fingers—making him wish that she was touching him instead. “Leather jackets are one of those things that are a timeless trend. They never really go out of style. And yours looks nice and well worn, which is even better because it makes you look cool, and like you’re not trying too hard to impress like a brand-new jacket would. It totally gives off an I-don’t-give-a-crap-what-anyone-thinks kind of vibe.”

He chuckled as he briefly met her gaze. “Ahh, goal accomplished then, because that’s exactly the attitude I was going for.”

They’d gotten off track, and Leo rerouted the conversation back to her. “So, if you live in New York now, what brings you back to San Diego?”

“A visit,” she replied. “My parents are still here, and my cousin is getting married next weekend, so I’m here for that, too.”

“Ahhh,” he said, though he still had no idea what any of this had to do with him.

“You seem to have done well for yourself.” She changed the subject once again, and he let her, for now. “I mean, going from being a Lyft driver in college to owning your own car service company with a fleet of high-end vehicles is pretty impressive.”

“I do have a partner, but yeah, I’ve been very fortunate, and the business keeps growing.” He suddenly felt as though he was at a disadvantage with her knowing so much about him. “I take it you’ve followed me on social media?”

It was a normal, casual comment in this day and age of Facebook and Instagram when following old friends was the norm, but for a moment, a panic-stricken look passed across her face before she averted her gaze.

“I, uh, yeah,” she said, her voice sounding . . . strange.

“Then you must know that Amanda and I never did get married.” Might as well get that out in the open.

She glanced back at him just as he exited the freeway. “Yes,” she replied. “I assumed you didn’t get married based on your relationship status. I’m really sorry it didn’t work out.”

Leo waited for that punch-in-the-gut feeling that always accompanied the memories of his wedding day that never happened. That humiliation of being publicly rejected in front of family and friends, even as Amanda tried to soothe the unexpected breakup with an “it’s me, not you” consolation speech—even after they’d made so many plans for their future together, which included starting a family of their own. The bitterness and resentment he’d harbored after that day was thankfully becoming a distant pang.

“It’s better than ending up divorced,” he said, meaning it, because clearly he wouldn’t have made Amanda happy in the long run. And he only intended to get married once in his lifetime.

Being on the si

delines of his parents’ divorce had cemented that decision for him, even though he’d only been a teenager at the time of their split. While his father had been solely responsible for the dissolution of their marriage, Leo remembered his mother’s devastation during a time in her life when she’d been battling cancer, and how the entire foundation of their family had been shaken and torn apart because of his dad’s selfish choices. That kind of emotional fallout was something he never wanted to experience in his own marriage . . . or have his own kids have to be a part of.

Before Peyton could ask details of what had happened with Amanda, Leo reached the Wood Ranch Grill and turned into the parking lot. The restaurant sold casual fare and offered strong cocktails, as Peyton had requested.

They were quickly seated at a booth inside, and after a few minutes of perusing the menu, they ordered something to eat and drink. Once his Sam Adams and her margarita were delivered, she lifted her large glass, met his gaze, and exhaled a deep breath.

“Might as well end this how it all began,” she said, a cheeky smile on her lips.

He inclined his head in confusion. “With a margarita?”

She nodded as she took a big gulp of the tequila-infused drink. “Or four or five, maybe more. I lost count after a while. Those margaritas got me into a lot of trouble.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “That’s . . . cryptic.”