Page 35 of The Date
“His real name was Theodore; she called him Tweedie for short.” He barks out a laugh, but I ignore him and finish my story. “She wasn’t able to take him with her when she went into care. The poor thing lost both her parents and her pet all in a matter of days.”
His smile fades. “Oh,” he says quietly.
“When Mum found Polly in the garden, I think she saw a little bit of Tweedie in him. Even though Theodore was a canary, not a parrot. He was also a perfect gentleman, not a foul-mouthed feathered fiend like his counterpart.”
“Polly’s a girl’s name, yet you keep referring to the bird as a he.”
I lift one shoulder. “He’s always referred to himself as Polly; who am I to question that?”
“You know he’s a bird, right?”
“Yes. He also has opinions, lots of them. How would you like it if I suddenly started calling you by another name?”
He cocks an accusing brow. “Hello! Not-Brendan ring any bells?”
He has a valid point, but I’m not going there with him right now. “Well, goodnight,” I say again, trying to get away before I do something I’ll regret, but instead of releasing my wrist, Bronson’s fingers slide down and lace through mine. Ugh.
“I want to thank you again for all the help you gave me in taking down Victor.”
“As I’ve told you a thousand times, there’s no need.”
I try to take another step away, but he holds firm. I swallow thickly when his gaze drops to my lips. “I want to kiss you, Rose.”
My pulse stutters because I really want to kiss him too. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” he counters, tugging on my hand and pulling me closer.
The warmth of his body settles against mine, and every sensible thought I had disappears. Before I can stop myself, I push up onto the tips of my toes and brush my lips against his.
I draw back, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him, but alas, he only smirks. “You can do better than that, Rose.”
He releases my hand and cups my face. Damn him. How’s a woman supposed to resist a man who looks like that? I’m powerless to stop him as he leans in and meshes our mouths together.
The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. His lips move slowly against mine, coaxing rather than demanding, and when he groans into my mouth and deepens the contact, I melt into him. My fingers curl around the lapels of his suit jacket, tugging him closer.
My toes curl, my knees weaken, and a soft sigh escapes me. By the time we come up for air, we’re both panting. “Do you want to come up and meet Polly?” I find myself asking.
“Meet Polly?”
“Yes. It’s an offer to meet the bird, not an invitation for a nightcap. I don’t have any alcohol upstairs; it’s not fun to drink on your own. I don’t even have coffee,” I ramble.
“Since we’ve already established that your version of a nightcap doesn’t involve alcohol, I’d say that’s a moot point. And you don’t like coffee?”
“I love coffee, but not instant. That stuff is nasty. Have you ever had coffee from the barista in the lobby of your building? Best I’ve ever tasted.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I’ve only had it once, the morning I came in early. Every other day there’s always a long line, so unless I want to be late for work, I have to walk straight past it.”
“You make it sound like a hardship.”
“It is. You have no idea how difficult it is to walk past really good coffee and pretend you’re a responsible adult.”
Bronson barks out a laugh as he reaches up to brush the tip of his finger over my bangs. “Oh, Rose, what am I going to do with you?”
I could think of plenty of things, like throw me over his shoulder, take me upstairs and ravish me, for starters. But voicing any of those devious thoughts out loud would only get me into trouble.
We ride the elevator in silence. The walk to my apartment door is no different. What was I thinking by inviting him up here? Introducing my boss to my parents’ bird, who swears like a sailor, isn’t exactly going to get me a promotion any time soon.
