“A lot of men think the way you do,” he says quietly. “And that’s why so many of them take their women for granted. Guys see kissing as the first rung on the ladder to sex.” He draws an arc in the air. “Kiss ... grope ... strip ... penetrate. It’s a straight line for them. But kissing is most powerful when it’s a circle. A long, meandering journey of sensation.”
God, his voice. His stupidly resonant, sexy-as-hell voice. Even without the Irish accent, it’s devastating.
He leans forward, and he’s too close for me to ignore how his body sets mine on high alert. I lean back to compensate, but his expression tells me he knows exactly what I’m doing.
“Miss Tate, you might think that a kiss is nothing special, but kissing a woman with no intention of it leading to something else? That’s how you discover the meaning of sensuality. I can find an ocean of pleasure in every inhale and moan; every soft, slow sweep of her tongue. The taste of her lips. The shape of her face beneath my hands. The way her body curves into mine as she stops thinking and finally gives herself over to how she feels.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but every word vibrates through my skin and into my bones.
He gazes at my mouth with open fascination for several long seconds before coming back to my eyes. “You can live and die within the lifetime of a decent kiss. Trust me on that.”
He seems to wait for my reaction, but I’m so mesmerized, all I can manage is, “Uh huh.”
“You have to understand that most of the ladies who engage my services haven’t been kissed properly in years. Their partners do it to initiate sex, and they’ve forgotten how to make their women feel loved instead of merely wanted.”
I squirm under his intensity, hot and viciously aroused. “I don’t see the difference.”
He goes back to staring at my mouth, and every single trace of his smile has vanished. “Maybe one night I’ll kiss you properly to help you understand.”
I struggle to keep my breathing even as he continues to stare. There’s no way I’m letting him know how stupidly attracted to him I am right now.
“I didn’t agree to be kissed as part of our deal.”
“You agreed to the dates. Kissing is part of the package.”
“Then I’d like to order the non-kissing version. The dates I can pass off as research, but I’d never live it down if my editor found out I was macking on the subject of my exposé.”
I think I see a flash of disappointment in his expression, but that’s more likely a projection of my own regret.
“Are you sure that’s how you want to play this?” he asks.
“I am.”
He gives a small shrug. “Okay, I’ll hold back from kissing you. But for the record, if you kiss me, all bets are off.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
He smiles and goes back to his meal. “If you say so, Miss Tate.”
*
After polishing off enough food to satisfy a handful of NFL teams, Max and I watch in sated silence as Georgios leads a brigade of waiters in clearing the table. When he places the check between us in a fancy leather wallet, I’m quick to grab it before Max can.
He isn’t amused. “Hand it over, Miss Tate.”
“No,” I say. “You paid at Verdi’s. I’m paying here. This isn’t a date. It’s a business meeting.”
He removes his hand and shrugs. “As you wish.”
I grab some cash from my purse and slide it into the wallet. “Besides, that thousand dollars you refunded was company money, so really my boss is paying for this, not me.”
“From what I’ve learned of your boss, he’s not the easiest man to work for.”
I close my purse. “Not easy to work for is probably the nicest thing anybody’s ever said about Derek. For someone who doesn’t seem to be packing much in his pants, he’s certainly the biggest dick I’ve ever known. It doesn’t help that he hates me.”
Max stands and holds out his hand to help me up. “Then go somewhere else.”
I take it, and he pulls me to my feet. “I intend to, but I can’t until I have some frequent headline miles under my belt. This story will help me achieve that.”
Before I can move away, he brings his hand over mine and says, “Miss Tate, until you write your final piece on me, I’d ask you not to give Derek too many details about what we discuss. In fact, the fewer people who know about me, the better, at least until the article is published. Can I trust your discretion?”
“I can try to keep everything on the down-low as much as possible, but if Derek pushes me, it’ll be hard to deny him. I’ll do my best, though.”
We’re quiet as we slip back into our shoes and head out into the street. Max loops his jacket over his arm and shoves his hands in his pockets as we amble in the direction of the west river. It’s a cool night, but right now walking off the metric ton of food in my swollen belly seems like a good idea.
Seemingly at random, Max passes behind me, so he’s nearest the curb before continuing on.
“Superstitious?” I ask, amused.
He points to the water lining the road. “Trying to protect you from a dry-cleaning bill if someone drives too close.”
“Do you get your moves from an eighteenth-century edition of A Gentlemen’s Guide to Chivalry or something?”
He glances at me, his expression darkening. “If you knew how ungentlemanly I’ve been in my life, you wouldn’t say that.”
“Sounds like something I should investigate further. Care to explain?”
“Not tonight, no.” His tone suggests we’re done discussing it.
As we continue, walking beside him feels bizarre. Going to dinner with a man to whom I’m attracted, followed by heading to a destination that isn’t a bedroom isn’t usually my thing. The strangeness of it makes me shiver.
“Are you cold?”
I shake my head, but already Max is unfurling his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. “You don’t have to,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“It’s no trouble.” He stands in front of me and pulls at the lapels until it’s securely wrapped around me. “Besides, you look better in it that I do.”
He gives me a look that’s almost affectionate, then seems to realize he’s not with one of his fawning fans and clears his throat before going back to his place beside me.
When I look at my phone, I’m surprised to note it’s nearly one a.m. The past few hours have flown by. I should be thinking about heading home, but I still have so many questions running through my mind, I don’t want to lose the opportunity to ask them, just in case Max rethinks his decision to talk to me and disappears.
“So,” I say, “I know this is probably a silly question, but do you have a girlfriend?”
Max looks down and chuckles. “Yes. Several. Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“Excluding clients.”
“Well, in that case, no.”
“Have you ever? Since you’ve been doing this?”
He puts his hand on my lower back as we cross the street. “Once. Didn’t last long. It seems sharing a man with other women can be a relationship killer.”
“Did you love her?”
“Honestly? No. She was more an experiment than anything else.”
“In?”
“My ability to practice what I preach.”