“Does it annoy you?”
“At first it did. I guess I’m starting to expect it now.”
“I’m like fungus, I grow on you.”
“Charming.”
The hours disappeared while we talked. Especially when we argued about football. It was almost midnight by the time we were ready to leave the diner. The waitress brought the bill, and Brody refused to let me pay, even though I’d argued it was technically a business dinner, and the station would pick up the tab. He didn’t say anything, but I caught that he left the waitress a tip of at least a few hundred dollars. The fact that he didn’t want me to notice what he’d done made the gesture that much more meaningful.
He hailed a cab, and light late-night traffic had us pulling up in front of my building in less than fifteen minutes. Brody told the cabbie to give him a few minutes and walked me into my building.
“Thank you for taking the time to let me pre-interview you. It’ll actually make me a lot more comfortable on Saturday now that we’ve done that.”
“You’re very welcome.”
I pushed the button to call the elevator. “And thank you again for dinner.”
Brody nodded. “You know . . . I still have that one personal question left.”
I had actually forgotten. “Saving the best one for last?”
“You could say that. Yes.”
The flutter in my stomach knew what was coming. In a sweet gesture, he brushed the hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. His hand caressed my cheek and then tipped my chin slightly so I was looking straight into his eyes when he spoke. “What’s it going to take to get you underneath me, Delilah?”
I swallowed. He wasn’t teasing to get my attention this time. No, he was dead serious and watching me intently, waiting for an answer.
“I like you. You’re full of yourself and direct. But despite all that, I actually really enjoy spending time with you. I’m just not looking for a physical-only relationship. I need more than that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Dating. Going out together. Exclusivity. I need to spend time with someone, other than just in his bed. Like talking to them during a movie.” I forced a smile. “It’s just who I am.”
The normally slow elevator appeared quickly for a change. The doors slid open behind me, and I waited for Brody to say something. But he only nodded.
“See you Saturday?” I asked.
“Saturday.” He nodded.
The doors slid closed and carried me up to the fourteenth floor. But it felt like a little piece of my heart had been left behind.
Chapter 10
Delilah
Only two days had passed since I’d seen Brody, yet I still couldn’t get him out of my mind. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.
“Cute.” Indie gave an unenthused wave to the guy at the other end of the bar who tipped his drink in our direction. She sighed as she brought her martini glass to her mouth. “But he’s no Brody Easton.”
“Can we not go there again? Your interest is bordering on stalkerish.”
“Well, I guess there’s always that guy.” She tilted her glass in the direction of an older guy who seriously resembled Dr. Hannibal Lecter from The Silence of the Lambs. He was standing alone in a corner, leering in our direction, and when he caught us looking, his rickety-toothed smile grew ridiculously wide. I would have felt safer if Hannibal had had the leather mask wrapped around his face. “I’m sure he’d be happy to break the seal on your revirginized vagina . . . before he eats half your face off.”
“Think I’ll pass. I do have other opportunities, you know. Michael Langley texted me today.”
“Oh yeah. And did you agree to go out with him yet?”
“I was busy. I didn’t have time to text him back yet.”
“You’re stalling because you want Brody, and you know it.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“You’re not busy now.” She motioned for the bartender, pointing to her empty glass. “Go ahead. I’ll wait. Text him and tell him you’ll go out with him, then. If you’re not holding out for Brody Easton, then there’s nothing stopping you. Your cleanse is just about over anyway.”
“I will.”
“I’m waiting.” Indie tapped her fingers on the bar. Needing to prove her wrong, I took out my phone and thumbed off a quick response to Michael.
“Happy?” I turned my phone in her direction so she could see the word sent on my screen. She snatched it from my hand and read my response.
Thank you. Yet another crazy week. I promise to catch up with you again next week.
“That is not telling him you’ll go out with him. That’s pushing him off again for another week.”
“But I am busy. How would you have liked me to respond?”
She tapped on my keypad and turned the phone in my direction. Luckily, she hadn’t pressed Send. Her text read. On second thought. I don’t think I can wait another week. Dinner on Saturday night?
“I’m not that forward.” I grasped for my phone. She pulled it back, out of my reach.
With a huge smile, she said, “You are now.” She hit Send.