Page 5 of Full Mountie

“No.”

“Yes, please.”

She laughs. “I don’t think that’s great first date conversation.”

“No?” I shift a bit closer to her around the small, circular table in our booth. Not crowding, just getting more friendly. “I’d wager the most important thing to test on a first date is how good a listener someone is.”

Her eyebrows bob up for a second, then settle back into place. A momentary flash of surprise. “Maybe about other things, but work is so ordinary.”

“Again, there’s nothing ordinary about your job. But let’s say there was. Let’s say you worked as an office manager or a nurse or a hairdresser. Or a cop.” I point to myself. “Where every day is the same old thing, over and over again. You don’t think I want to date someone who’s willing to listen to boring?”

She tips her head to the side, thinking about that. “Good point.”

“Tell me about the most boring part of your job.”

“When Gavin’s gone, it’s deathly quiet,” she says immediately. “I’m still not used to that. It was never like that when he was just an MP. But now so much of what he does either travels with him, or is handled in the PMO across the street.” She gestures in the general direction of Langevin Block, the office building across from Parliament Hill where most of the PM’s staff have office space. It’s a select few that work in Centre Block.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” I frown. I’ve only been a part of the prime minister’s security detail for two months, but in that time we’ve been away from Ottawa an awful lot. And for the most part, Beth stays behind. “I’m sorry.”

She waves it off. “It’s fine. It’s insane the rest of the time.”

“I’ve seen some of that.”

She snorts. “Like the last-minute schedule upheavals?”

“And the million phone calls you make, ever so sweetly, to resolve conflicts with seeming ease.”

“That’s my superpower.” She winks, but I like that she knows it, even if she’s teasing.

“It is.” I lean over, and we’re close enough for our arms to touch. “I like it a lot.”

She glances sideways at me. “Yeah?”

I hold her gaze as it grows warm. “Yeah.”

She shifts closer, closing the gap between us. Her arm presses against mine—again with the sizzle—and she looks out of the booth, a smile playing on her lips as she searches for the bartender. “Maybe we could have another drink before dinner?”

Most definitely.

We endup walking to the restaurant, where we take our time over three slow, amazing courses of food before winding our way back to Parliament Hill. Hours have passed since we left on our date, and I didn’t drink anything over dinner because I knew I wanted to drive her home.

She skipped wine with dinner, too. Because faculties and first dates.

Smart, and sexy.

The walk back is charged with electricity. Our conversation flows, interspersed with laughter and more and more brushing touches of hands and arms. Glances sideways that make us smile. I finally take her hand a few blocks from the Hill and the conversation fades in a good way.

My pulse is thumping as we slowly drift around to the priority parking lot for the RCMP detail.

Yeah, I really like first dates.

And tonight is right up there as the best first date I’ve ever had. Only one other rivals it, and that one probably doesn’t count because the guy I was with didn’t realize it was a date.

But he doesn’t get to intrude on this moment. Right now, all I can see is Beth. We stop beside my car. I rest my hand in the small of her back as I reach past her and open the passenger door.

At the bar, I’d caught the faintest whiff of vanilla and brown sugar, and now I get another hit of it, a heady mix that I get to breathe in and in and in because she doesn’t move to get into the car. Instead, she turns towards me and lightly touches my jacket with her free hand. “I’m glad we did this,” she says softly.

I brush my fingers over her cheek, then I touch her hair for the first time. It’s glossy and smooth, the dark brown strands sliding over my fingers. I want to muss her up. I want to see what she looks like after a night of sex, lips swollen and hair wild.

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