“Know any right candidate?” I challenge.

“Me.”

My heart rate picks up so fast I’m afraid it might leap out of my chest.

“What?” I have to ask because I don’t want to risk even the slightest possibility I’ve misheard him.

“I know what your favorite dessert is. I’m excellent at kissing on tables or against walls, or anywhere, really. Date me.”

Oh my. Every cell in my body wants to sing with joy, but the reasonable part of my brain is still confused, needs more explanations.

“A date?” I repeat clumsily. The word bounces back and forth in my mind, not quite making sense yet. But even though my mind can’t fully process this, my body does. Hope surges in my chest as my pulse spikes. Adrenaline and heat course through my veins, resulting in a mix so powerful I’m nearly giddy. Dating Nate would mean holding hands and finally, finally being able to lose myself in those big arms of his. It would mean I’d finally have carte blanche to openly admire that fine body of his instead of just sneaking glances. It would mean carte blanche to do more than admiring: to touch and taste him, to kiss every inch of his body, to please him.

I lick my lips, mentally berating myself for already picturing the two of us in bed. But I’m so high on anticipation and giddiness that I can’t help riding the wave. Dating him would mean I’d get to take care of him, making him laugh every day, making sure he has someone to turn to when stress at work is putting too much pressure on him. I’d get a chance to make him fall in love with me.

Wooooooooow, I’m not getting ahead of myself or anything.

“But you’re leaving,” I say finally, remembering that particular detail.

He shakes his head. “The London deal fell through.”

Despite all the ramifications this might have, right now all I can think about is how terrible this is for him. He wanted it so much.

“I’m so sorry. What happened? You said the job was practically yours.”

“Turns out it wasn’t. They decided to go with someone who’s related to the big boss over there.”

“Ouch.”

“So instead, I was offered a permanent job here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I haven’t officially accepted it yet, told them I’ll think it through over the weekend, but I’m going to take it. It’s not what I was going after, but there’s a lot I can do with it. A new challenge.”

I always loved Nate’s determination to see the positive side of everything, to take what’s thrown at him and turn it into something beautiful. But beneath his bravado, his voice is tinged with disappointment and hurt. I want to make it go away, make him smile again.

“So, how about that date?” He slides to the edge of his seat, inching even closer as if determined to overpower me.

I clear my throat. “Sounds great. But I’ll have you know, I have a five-date rule.”

“What do you mean?”

The corners of my lips twitch. “I don’t put out until after the fifth date.”

“You don’t put out what… the trash, the light, fires?”

Flashing him a grin, I take a sip of my wine. Torturing him feels far too good. I make a mental note to do it more often. Don’t look into his eyes more than five seconds at a time. My willpower weakens the longer his gaze traps me, and I want to stick to my guns.

“Don’t mess with me. You know what I’m talking about.”

He straightens in his chair, a look of intense concentration on his face. “How about three dates?”

“This is nonnegotiable, you brute.”

“Okay, but why five? I’ve heard of the three-date rule, but five is just cruel.”

He looks positively crestfallen now, and it occurs to me that no woman has ever said no to him before. By the way he referred to the three-date rule, it’s clearly something he only heard of as an urban myth, not something he experienced himself. I bet women succumb to his charms from the first date, and if I let him cage me in with his gaze again, I might join their ranks.

Tags: Layla Hagen The Bennett Family Romance
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