“Yes.”
“Then you should not put them in a spot that gets direct light. The sun will fade them the same way it does art.” She’d noted none of the artwork she’d seen so far faced the windows.
“Got it.”
And once again, he was studying her, and once again, Jasmine, oh so aware of him, kept her reaction to herself. “Kel did a great job with these built-ins.”
“He did. You should see the deck he built at my place in Traverse City. Maybe I can fly you up sometime to check it out.”
“Fly?”
“Air force vet. Jet pilot. Have my own plane.”
It was difficult not to react to that. “You’re impressing me, Mr. Repo Man.”
“Good. Hoping that’ll get me a date for dinner with you.”
Her turn to study him. “How many women do you dazzle with that résumé?”
“A lot, but none that I can recall know what a kelvin is.”
Jas’s knees melted into her emerald stilettos. She looked into his too-handsome face. “You’re smooth, no denying that.”
“But will you have dinner with me is the question on the table, Ms. Ware.”
“When?”
“Tonight? Tomorrow? A week from today? You decide.”
YES! screamed one side of herself, but the other side that didn’t do drama or baggage asked, “Fiancées? Baby mamas? Exes?”
“One ex. We split as friends six years ago. No on the other two. And you?”
“None of the above.”
He appeared pleased.
Satisfied with his replies, she said, “Okay. How about lunch, say, Saturday coming up?”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Hedging your bets?”
She was admittedly enjoying the banter. “A girl has to be careful these days.”
“Understood. Lunch is fine. Do you have a favorite place?”
“I’ll let you pick. No planes this first time out, though.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jas kept her excitement to herself. Wherever he went, women probably followed his jet-flying fineness around like a New Orleans Second Line, and she wasn’t trying to be in that number.
“Thanks for agreeing.”
“Thanks for asking.”
Silence fell between them, and they were back to visually drinking each other in. In spite of the charged attraction, Jas had kissed many a frog in her life, so she hoped he wouldn’t turn out to have some over-the-top faults that would dictate she never see him again. With that in mind, she planned to keep her heart on lockdown. This was real life. Not a romance novel.
Taking charge of the conversation again, she gave him an estimate of how many books he’d need to fill the empty shelves. “If you figure one hundred per case, you’re looking at three, maybe four hundred books. Which is not really a lot of space considering how prolific writers like Leonard and Mosley are. Throw in the others, and you should be able to fill these up with no problem.”
She took in the wolf painting hanging between two of the bookcases and thought about the one in the front room. “Are the wolf paintings done by the same artist?”
“Yes. Wolves were my favorite animal as a kid, still are. In fact, I was pretty upset when my mother told me I couldn’t grow up and be one. Too many werewolf movies.”
That made her smile.
He continued, “I pilot flights for the Department of Natural Resources when their scientists conduct the annual counts.”
“That’s interesting. How many wolves are in the state?”
“Depends on who you ask. DNR says around seven hundred, spread over more than one hundred forty packs. Now that they’re no longer on the endangered lists, those who want to hunt them say over a thousand.”
He glanced up at the painting. “This is a gray wolf. The brown-and-white coloring is the autumn coat.”
“It’s very beautiful. Male or female?”
“This one’s male. The one out front is female. Needed both because they mate for life.”
He met her eyes, and a small current of something she couldn’t name tapped into her senses and slid a soft warmth through her blood and up her spine. She shook herself free of whatever spell he was silently casting. “I think I have everything I need to get started on your collection.”
“Good. Let me give you my cell number in case something comes up and you need a rain check for Saturday.”
“Okay.”
He recited the digits while she keyed them into her phone. That done, she sent him hers.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m looking forward to Saturday. I’ll send you the name of the restaurant, and you can meet me there. First date. You may want to drive yourself.”
“You can’t possibly be this nice, Mr. Own Your Own Jet.”
He chuckled. “What you see is what you get. I wasn’t lying to you last night about how I was raised, and hopefully our lunch together won’t be a date from hell.”
“I hope not either. Thanks for sticking around last night.”
“My pleasure.”
The tone of his voice, coupled with the muted sensuality in his gaze, would’ve had a woman with less self-control on the verge of asking where the bedroom was. “I’m leaving.”
As if reading her mind, he laughed softly. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Outside, she hit the car’s clicker, opened the door, and placed her tote on the passenger’s seat. Sitting down, she silently removed the stilettos and grabbed her high-tops. Confusion and interest flickered in his gaze.
“Flat soles work better on a clutch.”
“You drive a stick?”
“I do.”
“That’s impressive. Not many people can drive a manual.”
She tied up her Chucks.
He chuckled. “Kelvins. Books. A stick. Why isn’t some man sending you roses daily?”
She met his eyes. “Because I’m not a size two, I’m smart, I refuse to settle, my parents are retired cops, and I don’t play the two-backed beast right out the gate.”
“So now you’re speaking Shakespeare?” The admiration in his voice touched her.
She swung her legs under the steering wheel. “And letting you know up front who I am. Scares some of your gender to death.”
“Consider me Torr the Brave.”
She took in the serious set of his features and replied softly, “Good.” She closed the door, started the engine, and powered the window down. “Looking forward to Saturday, Torr the Brave.”
“Drive safe.”
“And I prefer lilies.”
“Noted.”
Jas nodded and pulled off. Only after leaving his block did she allow herself to release the smile she’d been holding in; then she chased it with a screaming series of “Oh my God!” Laughing, she headed back to her office, wishing their date was that night.
CHAPTER THREE
Torr watched Jasmine’s car until it drove from view and wondered how he’d be able to restrain himself from calling her around the clock until their lunch date on Saturday. Meeting her today made him want to know all there was to know about her. That she intrigued him was an understatement. Her book knowledge, ability to drive a manual transmission, and Shakespeare references had him wanting to lay lilies at her feet. Throw in that beautiful face and the Rubenesque, built-like-a-goddess body, and he was surprised he’d been able to string three intelligent words together during the meeting. In truth, he hadn’t given her much thought after their parting last night. Granted, he’d acknowledged something had clicked between them, but he hadn’t been overwhelmed. In a city as large as Detroit, he’d been certain he’d never see her again. Apparently, the fates had something else in mind, and he would have to remember to thank his youngest brother for the hookup.