Only I must have miscalculated the time because Nathan was standing outside waiting for me. I paused, my pulse racing as my thirsty gaze drank in the sight of him.
His dark hair swept past the collar of his expensive suit, the thick waves slightly tamed from the tousled style I was so used to seeing. A few stray locks fell over his forehead, adding to the alluring planes and angles of his chiseled face. The shadow of whiskers darkened his jaw and I was secretly glad he hadn't shaved the soft scruff I had come to adore.
I lowered my gaze, taking in the broad shoulders and trim waist. The strong hands and long fingers and even his sculpted wrists. I'd never realized wrists could be muscular or sculpted but his were, no doubt from the years he'd spent on the ice, wielding his stick.
Heat filled my face as images of Nathan wielding an entirely different kind of stick filled my mind with crystal clarity. My traitorous heart leapt against my breastbone and raced with excitement as I contemplated every tiny—and not so tiny—detail of those images.
He must have felt me staring at him because he turned, his mouth curling in a genuine smile of appreciation. An older woman who had been approaching from the other direction stumbled and she did a doubletake in Nathan's direction, no doubt caught off guard by the sight of that crooked grin.
No, not just the grin. The whole package. Everything about him.
I bit back my own smile along with the urge to tell the matron to keep walking, to tell her he was mine.
Mine.
I knew I was in trouble as soon as the thought entered my mind—not because I wanted to rail against the thought, but because I wanted him to think the same thing about me. I wanted him to make me his as much as I wished for him to be mine.
Yes, I was in trouble.
And I didn't care.
How could I, when I saw appreciation flare in his eyes? When the blue of his piercing gaze darkened with hunger and need and want? When all of that hunger was focused on me?
Had something changed between us in the last few weeks? Had we both somehow become more attached than either of us had planned? Or was I merely fulling myself, losing my senses to an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking? I wasn't sure and to be honest, I didn't really care. Not now, when Nathan was approaching me with that sexy smile and hungry gaze.
He reached for my hand and my fingers automatically tightened around his. My breath caught in my chest and my skin pebbled with excitement when he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving mine as he brushed his mouth against the back of my hand before tucking it in the crook of his arm.
"You're beautiful."
I blinked. Nodded. Looked down at the simple emerald green cocktail dress I'd chosen then almost made some silly comment about throwing on something old. But I didn't. I couldn't, not when I'd nearly torn apart my entire wardrobe looking for the perfect outfit.
Every agonizing minute trying on dress after dress had been worth it just to have him look at me that way. Like he wanted to do nothing more than peel it off me—something I'd gladly let him do.
"Are you ready?"
"Hm? Oh." I cleared my throat and hoped he would blame the flush staining my cheeks on the heat of the evening, even though it really wasn't that hot. "Yes. Of course."
He led the way inside and approached the maître d', a man I'd seen at least a hundred times and one who was adept at correctly interpreting the subtle shake of my head when he started to greet me by name. Nathan had chosen this restaurant for a reason, whether it was to impress me or for something else entirely. Whatever his reasons, no matter how silly I might think them to be, I didn't want him to think his efforts had been wasted.
We were led to a table dressed out in white linen and fine china. I bit back a smile at Nathan's small frown when the maître d' pulled my chair out before he could. I nodded my thanks as he draped the napkin in my lap then accepted my menu as Nathan was seated.
Our water glasses were immediately filled. Soon after, we were asked for our drink order and Nathan chose a delicate white wine that was more expensive than I expected him to pick.
He reached for his glass of water and took a small sip as he studied the menu. "I've heard a lot about this place. Is the food here as good as they say it is?"
"Um..." I shifted in my chair, not sure how to answer. I was still trying to figure out what to say when Nathan looked up, his gaze catching mine. One corner of his mouth curled in a smile that danced in his eyes.
"I'm not stupid enough to think you've never been here before, Addy."
"Well, it is kind of a landmark."
"And pretty much around the corner from your house."
"Well, yes."
"And I'm guessing you've been here enough that the maître d' knows who you are." His smile widened as he motioned toward the front of the restaurant. "I saw you shake your head at him."
"Oh. I thought I was being discreet."
"You were. I would have never noticed if I had been able to keep my eyes off you."
My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again but the only thing that came out was a whispered, "Oh." Nathan's answering chuckle surprised me nearly as much as the sudden shyness washing over me, especially when he reached for my hand across the table and threaded our fingers together.
"Why were you so worried about saying something?"
"I don't know. I thought you were trying to impress me and I didn't want to disappoint you."
His gaze dropped for a few seconds then returned to mine. I didn't miss the way his fingers briefly tightened around mine, or the faint flush that colored his cheeks. "Maybe impressing you is part of it. But I also wanted us to enjoy a nice night out. Just the two of us."
"We can do that without the expensive restaurants."
"I'm not worried about how much it costs, Addy. Dinner won't exactly take me broke."
"I didn't think—"
"I know." He ran his thumb over my knuckles, tracing tiny circles against my skin. "But I didn't even stop to think that you might run into people you know here. We can leave if you want—"
"No." I tightened my fingers around his and shook my head. "No, we don't need to leave. It doesn't matter if we run into anyone or not."
"Are you sure? I don't want to create any potential problems with your father if he finds out."
"He won't. And even if he does, it doesn't matter. All he'll hear is how I was having dinner with the handsomest man in New Orleans."
Nathan laughed, though I wasn't sure if it was from my determined proclamation or my exaggerated drawl. Maybe both. He squeezed my hand then sat back, once again studying the menu as I studied him. I'd meant the compliment as a jest of sorts but that didn't detract from their truthfulness. Nathan was the handsomest man in New Orleans, the only man who'd ever caught my eye the way he had. The only man who'd ever made me feel the way I felt with him.
Yes, I was definitely in trouble. Maybe more trouble than I could handle because I was very much afraid I was falling in love with the rugged hockey player across from me. How was that even possible? We hadn't known each other long enough for me to fall in love with him. We were only supposed to be having fun. That was it, nothing more. Just fun.