Page 71 of Parting Shot

I was surprised.

“Am I being clear?”

“Yes. Very.”

“I just want to lie on top of you and feel your bare skin under mine. I could do it for hours if you let me.”

He got a kiss for that, and the way he opened for me, melted against me, I was very tempted to pull him into my lap and forget about food. My stomach had other ideas, though, because the growl was loud and long, like I was possessed. It was not sexy to have the man you were kissing collapse in a heap of raucous laughter. Apparently, I was very amusing and would be kept around purely for entertainment purposes.

At the restaurant he chose in River North, we were walked in through the back and brought upstairs to the second floor that overlooked the street. The lights of the city were beautiful, and the spring rain had washed everything clean.

“Pretty,” I remarked.

“Gorgeous.”

It was not lost on me that the only thing he could see was me. “Kind of cheesy, wasn’t that?”

“I don’t care,” he said, sliding a small key ring with a couple of fobs on it across the table.

“What’s this?”

“The gray one opens the gate that surrounds my home in Winnetka. The black one will get you on the elevator of Sutter Plaza in Streeterville. Above the offices, at the very top, is the penthouse. That fob will get you there.”

My eyes flicked to his. “That’s fast.”

“No. You’re not moving in. That would be fast. I’m giving you access to my homes because my work and yours are not going to magically align,” he explained, reaching over to take my hand. “So, if you’re able or I am, even if it’s late, we could see one another.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said, squeezing his hand before he pulled it back. “I don’t need keys to get in?”

“No. There is always someone there to open the door for you. The fob gives you access, but keys are unnecessary.”

“Well, not for me. I’ll make you a key for the outer door and one for my loft.”

“I would like that.”

“Okay.”

The chef himself came out to talk to Aaron at our private table. A partition had been put up so no one could see us, and with Miguel there, no one was getting anywhere close to try and take a peek. I had no clue what anything was since they were speaking Italian, so it was nice that Aaron translated for me.

“What sounds good?” he offered.

“I don’t care. Just don’t make me eat brains or, like, veal or lamb or something.” I shrugged. “I’m easy.”

The grin made his dimples pop.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I can’t seem to help myself.”

The red wine was heavy and thick, and I liked it a lot. The appetizers he’d ordered were good. I loved bruschetta, and the other—dates filled with goat cheese and wrapped in prosciutto—was amazing.

“I’ve never eaten a date before,” I told him. “I thought people only ate them in the movies. Ya know, like Indiana Jones?”

“I see that I’ll be broadening your horizons in all kinds of interesting ways, Detective.”

“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound filthy?”

He laughed at me before settling back in his chair. After a minute, I realized he was still staring at me.