Page 82 of Dare to Love Again

“Spago! I’ve always wanted to go there. But how can you get reservations at the last minute?”

“The owner is a client, and he’s usually very accommodating.”

She gasped. “Wolfgang Puck is a club member?”

“A Rossi client, darlin’,” he corrected, grinning broadly. “We handle security at his restaurant and his residence.” He continued to the bathroom, adding, “I’ll worry about dinner. You make your call after you’re finished ogling my ass, that is.”

“I wasn’t!” she sputtered.

Suddenly, he did an about-face and strode back to the bed.

Esme’s gaze dipped down to his sculpted chest, tight abs, and so much more. The view from the front was as jaw-dropping as the back. In a blink, he was beside the bed and bending over her, his fists planted on the mattress on either side of her hips. Staring into her eyes, he said, “You were, but I can’t blame you. Reverse our positions, and my eyes would be all over your glorious round butt, too. Said butt will also be rosy red for stalling unless you pick up the phone and tell your boss you’re taking a day off.”

“I can’t call at five a.m. No one is up now except city service workers, nurses, and crazy people.”

“Call the office and leave your message there, Esme. Otherwise, you’d have to set an alarm which defeats the purpose of a day off to catch up on your sleep.”

“Right, I can do that,” she whispered, transfixed by his handsome face being so close.

Satisfied—because he’d gotten his way, of course—he leaned forward, murmured, “There’s a good lass,” then gently but thoroughly kissed her.

“Have I mentioned you’re very good at that?”

“I don’t think you put it in words, but your breathy sighs and moans gave me a hint,” he replied, amused.

Bossy and feeling full of himself this morning, too.

“At the risk of overinflating what I think is a very healthy ego, I probably need to mention...”

Did she dare?

“What is it,a stór?”

His treasure... Yet another reason the man could talk her into anything, even to take a leap of faith, and dare to love again.

“I’m falling for you—hard. Am I crazy? I met you at Decadence less than two weeks ago.”

“I have it on good authority, from Eric, Thomas, and Flynn, another master friend of mine, that when it happens at the club, it tends to happen quickly.”

She’d seen Commander Flynn with Cassie and knew what Eric had with Val. Watching the smoldering heat of their passion had made her ache to have something even half as intense. She did now, and there was no halfway with Keiran Finnegan. Except he hadn’t returned the sentiment.

She tipped her face up to him. “And they would know?” she prompted.

He nodded, offering no further insight into how he felt. But as she’d just pointed out, it hadn’t been two weeks.

Come on, Esme.

Still, it stung not to have the feelings returned.

“Ah, darlin’, you look like I ran the Jag over your cat.”

Her eyes automatically darted around the room, locating Phin curled up on his favorite fuzzy throw on the chair across the room.

He laughed softly. “Don’t play poker,mo chuisle, you have a tell. I, on the other hand, need to go to Vegas and make my millions since you can’t read from my expression I feel the same way.”

Her gaze shot from Phin to his. “You do?”

“I’m not down on one knee...but I’ve got good instincts. We’re building something lasting, Esme. Count on it.”

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