"Well, hmmm… What do you want to know?" I smile down at the very moment she looks up through her lashes. Jesus, she is gorgeous. No one could possibly describe her as anything else, but I know there’s more to her than just her angelic looks. There’s a depth in her eyes that interests me the most. "Well I’m thirty-three, originally from Nebraska but grew up in El Paso, Texas. However, I’ve lived all over the place for the last few years."
"Where’d you learn Spanish?" she asks, seeming to be genuinely interested and not just making small talk.
"I worked on my grandparents ranch in Texas as soon as I was old enough to muck the stalls. Most of the other workers were Mexican, so they taught me a good bit in order to communicate. From there, I made some of the best friends I’ve ever had. Spanish was kind of a necessity."
"Wow. That’s really cool that you picked it up all on your own. I figured you were Hispanic, but with a last name like James, I wasn’t really sure."
"Nah. The dark complexion fools them every time though," I tease. "You ready for the best authentic Mexican food you’ve ever tasted?" I ask, reluctantly releasing her arm only long enough to guide her into the restaurant.
But it’s the way she arches her back to press against my hand that has my mind spinning in a million different directions—almost all of which end with her naked.
This is just a first date.
First date.
First date.
Fucking hell!
"I HAVE to admit. That place was delicious. I was looking forward to Shades, but I always give credit where credit is due," I say with an exaggerated bow as we leave the restaurant.
Jesus Christ, Leo James is intriguing. If there were ever a man who knew how to say all the right things at the right times, that would be Leo. There wasn’t a single moment of awkwardness at dinner—even at the points where there was supposed to be the normal ‘getting to know you’ awkwardness. Leo filled every minute with entertaining conversation I couldn’t help but feel comfortable with.
I was worried that we would have nothing to talk about. I wanted to stay as far away from my past as possible. A first date is not exactly the best time to air all of your dirty laundry—or, in my case, the entire Laundromat. Though, until tonight, I didn’t realize that I don’t have a ton of other stuff to talk about.
However, Leo did.
We talked about everything from stupid everyday stuff at work—his difficulty finding trustworthy employees and my switching careers so drastically. I brushed off his questions about why I no longer wanted to be a writer, and I think he actually bought it. But then we got serious. He told me all about his upbringing as an only child and his parents, who sadly passed away about the same time I lost mine. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word. He never pried, but he definitely asked questions as if he were actually interested in me. He’s distractingly handsome, but his sex appeal is amplified with his every word spoken.
Leo James is smooth. It’s not usually a trait I would want in a man, but there’s an honesty in his smile that really draws me in.
"How about you let me drive you home? I’m not okay with just calling you a cab," he says suddenly, turning to face me, forcing me to take a step back. "Please."
"I’ll be fine," I try to assure him, but he doesn’t budge.
"I live in that building." He points up at the tall tower only a block away. "Just let me get my car and I’ll take you home. It will be way quicker than hailing a cab from here this time of night." He smiles and it stills my breath. It’s the most terrifying sight I have ever seen.
Shit. He’s smooth and breathtaking. Red flags start flying all over the place. I’m not scared of Leo, but my legs are definitely trembling for a completely different reason.
Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.
"IT’S ONLY ten," Leo announces when we walk into his apartment.
His big-ass, expensive, downtown-Chicago apartment. I have a sudden urge to call Emma just to tell her that Leo is apparently, in fact, loaded.
"Wow. This place is gorgeous," I gasp as we walk inside.
"Thanks," he replies, tossing his keys into the bowl next to the door. "You want a drink?" he asks before remembering that I don’t drink. "Pop, water, juice…anything?" he corrects.
"You know, I’ve lived here for almost fifteen years, but I can’t ever get used to y’all calling it ‘pop,’" I laugh.
He groans, turning toward the fridge. "Y’all," is all he says in reply, as if that is clearly the explanation of his groan.
"I’ve adapted to most things about living in the Chicago. Y’all is not one of those things. I’m taking that one to the grave." I toss him a smile, but it does nothing to match his bright glow.
Damn it. Leo James is officially blinding too.
"So. Drink?" he asks, trying to divert my obvious stare.
"No. I really should get going," I answer while holding his gaze, but my confidence falters when his lips lift in a devilish grin.
"No. You shouldn’t," he corrects while peeling off his button-down to reveal an even tighter, white undershirt.
"I…" I stumble. Hard.
Who the hell is this guy? I’m a smartass. It’s kind of my thing, but he gives me nothing. He doesn’t set himself up for my sarcastic comments. He’s always one step ahead. And in this moment, taking off his shirt is that step.
He does things to me, but none I’m willing to admit yet.