He frowned. “You have to eat, yes?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then let’s go.”
She meant to argue but somehow found herself being led to the parking lot, his possessive hand on her back. They stopped at the first spot, his name on the reserved sign. The lot had emptied out, and not many cars remained. A black Porsche waited for him there.
“Umm, my car is over there.” She pointed in the direction of her vehicle.
He frowned, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Leave it here. We’ll figure it out later.”
“But—”
He hit his remote, the car beeped, and the doors unlocked. Before she could argue furth
er, he nudged her toward the passenger side, and soon she was inside and buckled in. He was brilliant at getting his way, though she had to admit she hadn’t fought all that hard. She wanted to be with him even if she didn’t want him overriding her express wishes.
Enclosed in the small confines of the sports car, his cologne permeated every one of her senses. He took her to one of his favorite restaurants, an Italian place where the owner knew him by name and hovered to make sure he was satisfied with the meal and the service. To her surprise, time passed quickly with interesting chitchat and fun banter. Ian was good company, interested in everything she had to say. He asked a lot of questions about her life. Simple questions. He didn’t dig deep, but she suspected he was merely biding his time. She was doing the same, satisfied to learn about him in small increments.
The pattern continued throughout the week. He’d show up to take her to dinner, not take no for an answer, and she’d invariably stopped arguing. His persistence endeared him to her even more. He didn’t hide his interest, and she couldn’t help but respond. Although he took their get-to-know-you dance slowly, he didn’t mask his ultimate intent to wine, dine, and seduce her.
He was a tactile man, something she wasn’t used to but quickly grew accustomed to and even desired. He always reserved them a booth and sat close by her side, his arm stretched behind her head, his big hand tangling in her curls. She felt the pull from her scalp to between her thighs, and it was all she could do not to attack him at the table. Especially when every single night he kissed her long, hot, and deep but ultimately sent her home, leaving her aroused and aching for so much more. She supposed that was his plan, and he was accomplishing it spectacularly.
How could she not want to be with him?
Alex came to mind, as he did when she was alone and not overwhelmed and seduced by Ian. She wanted—needed—to talk to him and make him understand the job and the relationship or whatever she was having with his half brother wasn’t a betrayal. She couldn’t control her feelings for Ian nor did she want to. But Alex was in LA on a promotional trip, and this conversation couldn’t happen over the phone. He’d be back on the red-eye Friday night, and she’d tell him on Saturday. As an excuse, it was a legitimate one, and though she didn’t relish the conversation, a part of her was relieved to put it off.
By the time the weekend rolled around, she was ready for anything, almost wishing he’d take that next step. He pulled up to Prime 112 and left his Porsche with the valet.
The hostess greeted him with a warm smile. “Mr. Dare, it’s wonderful to see you. Your usual table?”
He inclined his head. “Thank you, Maria.”
He’d reserved a table with a view but one that still afforded them privacy. With no booths, he still didn’t sit across from her. Instead, he held out her chair then sat beside her.
Prime 112 was one of the more exclusive steak restaurants in Miami and not somewhere she’d been to before. “You’re a steak man?” she asked when they were settled.
“I come here for the burgers,” he said without looking at the menu.
She opened a large leather binder and looked through the options, her mouth watering at the array of choices. “Thirty dollars for a burger?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Kobe beef. It’s the best.”
Oh, really? She folded her arms across her chest and nodded. “Then I’ll have the same.” If the man was that crazy, she figured why not join him.
He eyed her with an indulgent expression she wasn’t sure she appreciated.
“Order what you like. You don’t have to eat a burger because I am. Or because you think it’s one of the inexpensive options.”
She curled her fingers around the menu. “I like hamburger,” she said, fighting off the blush caused by him having figured her out.
“Good. My siblings agreed to come over on Sunday for dinner, so I’ll put those burgers on the menu.”
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.”
“But will you?”
She glanced up at him. “I won’t be there.”