Page 49 of My Killer Blind Date

‘Sorry I can’t step away.’ He flashes a grin toward me. ‘Just making a quick chocolate ganache.’

‘Oh, fancy.’ I’m not even sure exactly what a ganache is. I cast my gaze around the apartment. ‘Mind if I look around?’

‘There’s not much to see, but help yourself. Oh, and feel free to stash your purse in the entry closet.’

‘Thanks, but I think I’ll keep it on me.’ No way am I losing quick access to my weaponry.

I take myself on a small tour of the open-concept space. The galley-style kitchen is open to the living room, and at the front is the small balcony, the shades half drawn down. And dear heavens, it’s gorgeously decorated. I take in the vintage framed posters above the lowback caramel leather couch, featuring an art print of the Chicago skyline and an old ad for the Illinois Central Railroad. A thriving Monstera plant sits in the corner, and a fuzzy blanket is thrown over a plaid highback reading chair. The glass and metal coffee table in front of the couch is piled with books. I investigate the splayed-out hardcover with the reading glasses next to it – Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson’s Abundance. OK, Mr Smarty Pants.

A clear plastic round table sits in the small dining nook by the front windows, with two perfectly positioned orange plastic chairs. An abandoned coffee mug rests to the side with a puddle of black in the bottom. It’s impossible not to imagine how delightful it would be to have breakfast in that very spot as the morning sunlight streams through the windows.

To be frank, this does look like the apartment of someone who’s in finance and getting into art collecting as opposed to someone who regularly kills people. Everything has been meticulously chosen for the space – this is a guy with a great eye. I remind myself that good taste has no correlation with moral purity. You can be classy on the outside and an ethical dumpster fire on the inside. Isn’t that how Ted Bundy got them?

I peruse a white bookshelf and notice right away the collection of coasters Liam mentioned on our first date, neatly stacked. I look at a few. San Francisco. Albuquerque. Minneapolis. Honolulu. A cute collection? Or are the coasters trophies of the places where he’s done away with women?

There’s one notable absence. The deep freezer. I doubt it’s in the small bathroom I can see off the main space – and I doubly doubt it’s in his bedroom, though I’m not leaving without making sure.

‘It’s a little small,’ I remark. Also, how am I going to poke around to my satisfaction with Liam right there? It had occurred to me that maybe he could fall asleep while we watch a movie. Let’s see, what’s the most boring movie of all time?

‘Big enough for one.’ He’s moving the little pot of ganache to the island. ‘This has to cool for at least fifteen minutes before I can put it on the cakes. Hope you’re not starving. But I can get some beverages going for us in the meantime. Wine. Coffee. Home-brewed kombucha. Ladies’ choice.’

I shake my head. ‘Do they give you any extra storage space? In the basement? You know, for bikes or Christmas boxes or … a deep freezer?’

He laughs, his eyes glinting. ‘No extra storage. You’re still on that cow kick, huh? Wait until you eat these chocolate cakes. That’ll put everything else right out of your mind.’

Oh, will they? Wait – is that code for ‘the cakes are drugged’? No dessert for Margot tonight.

‘I had no idea you were a pastry chef.’

He smiles. ‘I’m a man of many skills.’

He’s in good spirits, and charming as ever, but … does he look a teensy bit worn out?

‘You look tired,’ I say. Which could be perfect for my boring movie plan.

He steps around the counter, his body incredibly close to mine now. His arms are bulging and it’s honestly hard to look away.

‘It’s been a long day, but don’t worry – I can feel a second wind coming on.’ He looks down at me, his eyes boring into mine. ‘You look really good tonight.’

‘In this?’ I grimace, plucking at my sweatshirt and hoping my BO wafts over and chokes him.

‘I’m a sucker for the natural look.’

Dammit. Should have caked my face in makeup.

‘I had a good time with you yesterday,’ he continues, then stretches right in front of me, suppressing a yawn, clasping his arms behind his head and moving from side to side, as if he knows I won’t be able to resist his arms. But this is a new Margot. One who knows herself and is honest about her strengths and weaknesses – but trusts herself. Or at least she’s fucking trying.

‘Yeah, kayaking was fun,’ I say.

The corner of his mouth turns up. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean the kayaking.’

I look up at him as the involuntary memory of our make-out sesh in his car washes through me. His face is a little scruffy tonight. I want to touch it so bad. Wrap my legs around that tight, defined torso—

‘We should watch a movie!’

His brow crinkles. ‘Right now?’

‘Yes. No need to summon up a second wind. Let’s just zone out for while. Have you seen Gods and Generals?’