“We’re walking?” I ask in surprise.
“I got dropped off. They’ll pick us up later. We’ll catch a cab from here to the restaurant.”
“Okay.”
We walk around the corner, and he hails a cab, and we climb into the back of it. “Waverly Place, please.”
“Okay.” The driver pulls out into the traffic.
“How long have you lived in New York?” I ask.
“My whole life.”
“Your parents live here?” I frown. I can’t imagine growing up in a city like this.
“Yes, although I went to school elsewhere.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Many places—finished in Aspen.”
I stare at him. What the hell? “You went to school alone in Aspen?”
“No, I always had my brothers with me.” He picks my hand up and kisses the back of it with a soft smile.
I stare at him. We come from completely different worlds. I can’t even fathom his upbringing.
“What’s that look?” he asks.
“I wasn’t even allowed to have a sleepover at my friend’s place.”
“Independence has always been encouraged in my family.”
I smile as I think of something.
“What?”
“If you’ve been living on your own since you were . . . ?” I pause as I wait for his answer.
“Twelve.”
“You should have the emotional intelligence of a ninety-year-old. Is that right?”
He throws his head back and laughs out loud. “Should being the operative word.” His eyes dance with delight. “And what would your emotional intelligence be at?”
“Hmm.” I frown as I think. “Emotionally I think I would be about age thirty.”
“Physically?” He smirks.
“Oh God, eighteen.” I laugh. “I’m not very experienced at all.”
His eyes hold mine, and I feel the burn from his gaze.
“What would your physical experience be at?” I whisper.
“I’m more of a show than tell kind of person.” He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Happy to give you a demonstration, though.”
I giggle as the cab pulls to a stop. “I bet you are.” We climb out of the cab, and two minutes later Jameson pulls me by the hand into a restaurant named Babbo. It kind of looks like a mini English pub from the outside, all quaint and cute, but when we walk through the door, it’s a lot bigger than it seems. The space is dark and moody, and gold light fixtures add to the ambience. Fresh flowers are in giant vases everywhere, and it feels super romantic.
“Hello, Mr. Miles.” The man at the desk smiles. “Your table is this way, sir.” Jameson takes my hand and leads me through to the corner of the restaurant; the waiter pulls out my chair.
“Thank you.”
“Would you like something to drink to start?”
“Yes.” Jameson peruses the wine menu. “Red?” he asks me.
“Whatever.” I shrug with a nervous smile.
“We’ll have a bottle of Henschke.”
“Yes, sir; which one?”
“Hill of Roses, please,” he replies as he closes the menu. The waiter disappears, leaving us alone.
“I’m guessing that you know your wine?” I ask.
He pours us both a glass of water. “I only go to restaurants that stock the wine I like. So yes, I suppose I know wine.”
“Ah. I see.” I smirk. “One of those.”
He smiles. “Perhaps.”
Our eyes linger on each other’s faces for a moment.
“I can’t believe you’re the frigging CEO.”
He chuckles and rests his face on his hand. “I thought you wanted a date with Jim tonight?”
“I did . . . I mean, I do.”
“Well, why are we talking about CEOs?”
I smile softly. “I don’t know.”
The waiter returns and opens the bottle of wine and pours a little in a glass. Jameson tastes it. “That’s fine.” The waiter fills our glasses and disappears.
Jameson holds his glass up, and I softly clink it with mine and take a sip and taste the rich, velvety flavor. “Hmm.” I nod. “I’m impressed.”
“I have excellent taste.” He smiles before falling serious again. “In all things.”
I smile bashfully; he’s talking about me.
“Tell me about last weekend,” he asks.
“Not much to tell.”
“You broke up with him?”
“It was a long time coming.”
“You weren’t happy?”
“No. Not for a long time.”
“What’s his name? What does he do?”
“I’m not telling you his name,” I snap. “He’s a businessman—successful and handsome,” I lie.
He sips his wine as he watches me, and I know he has something else on his mind.
“What?” I ask.
“Did you ever think about me?”
“Yes.” I smile softly. “Did you ever think about me?”
“I did, actually.” His eyes hold mine.
“What did you think about?”
A slow, sexy smile crosses his face.
“What?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“No, I do.” I smile. “Tell me.”
“I was thinking that you were probably the hottest sex I’d ever had.” His eyes drop to my lips.
The air crackles between us.
“And even now, every time I’m in a room with you, it’s as if my body takes on a need of its own.”
Time stops as we stare at each other.
He sips his wine in slow motion. “When I look at you . . . I have one thing on my mind,” he murmurs. “I can’t help it. It’s almost primal.”
Primal.
“It’s getting damn hard to control,” he whispers darkly.
Damn, this man is something else, but every warning signal is telling me to run away as fast as I can. If he can affect me the way he did after one night . . . what could two nights do?
Our eyes are locked, and arousal heats my blood. Suddenly I don’t want to play hard to get; I don’t care if we don’t know each other. I don’t care about the risks. He has something that I need . . . and damn it, I’m taking it without questions.
“We should order,” I whisper.
He opens the menu with a sense of urgency. “What do you want?”
“Whatever’s the quickest.”
An hour later, he pulls me up the sidewalk by the hand. “My car is parked around here.” He turns and takes me into his arms and aggressively kisses me, and I smile against his lips. The way we laughed and talked over dinner tonight reminded me of the Jim I remember, the man on the plane who was interested in everything about me and my life. As if he felt it, too, we nearly made out in the middle of a crowded restaurant. He’s not wrong; this attraction is insane.
“Hurry,” I whisper against his lips.
It’s one thing to go out to dinner with a gorgeous man—it’s another to imagine yourself under the table, sucking his dick the entire time.
I don’t know if it’s that he told me that I was the best sex he’s ever had, but . . . damn it, I want to blow his frigging mind. I’m desperate to get him naked. I want to be that girl he turned me into in Boston again. I’ve missed her.