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I hold up a hand. “Don’t. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

“Now, why would I want to do that?” He tilts his head. “Here’s what I think. You’re attracted to me but too scared to admit it.”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “Scared? Of you?”

Okay, maybe a little. The way he makes me feel… terrifies me, but I’ll never let him know that.

I force myself to meet his gaze. “I want nothing to do with you. Now give me back my phone and get this over with.”

“If that’s really what you want…” He produces my phone from his pocket and holds it out to me.

Surging forward, I try to grab it, but he evades me, holding it out of my reach.

“Ah ah ah... not so fast. I’m thinking we could discuss its return over lunch. You pay.” He arches a brow. “Unless you want me to give you a lecture on not letting some stranger kiss and steal your phone here?”

“Lunch it is.”

His mouth curves. “It’s a date.”

“Not a date. Blackmail.” But I must admit, part of me is looking forward to it. Regardless of my phone being part of the equation.

Chapter 9

Mary

We’re seated at a small table in the back of my favorite restaurant for our so-called ‘date’. Connor sits across from me, perusing the menu.

“Can I get my phone back now?” I ask.

“After.”

I huff.

He looks too perfect to be real. Too polished, too well groomed. Like a predator camouflaged among prey. The curve of his cheekbones, the way his dark hair falls over his forehead… The undercut fits him perfectly. How can someone look so dangerous yet attractive?

“Blue?”

I blink in surprise. “Yes?”

He closes the menu and rests it against his thigh. “Do you come here often?”

“Yes. It’s easier and faster than going to another restaurant. Besides, they know me here.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Well, uhm… If you want seafood, the salmon. If you prefer meat, the filet mignon.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “And what about you? What’s your favorite dish here?”

“The burgers are pretty good.”

“I’m not asking what’s pretty good. I’m asking what your favorite is.”

“The Spaghetti alla Napoletana.”

“Sounds great.” He signals for the waiter. “We’ll have two of the Spaghetti alla Napoletana, please.”

“Of course, Sir. What would you like to drink?”

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