Page 63 of Midnight Valentine
If I thought that would put a dent in his ego, I was wrong. He waves my question off like you’d wave off an irritating fly and gets right back down to business.
“My attorneys are handling everything. It’ll work itself out. Let’s get back to you and why you really came on this date with me.”
I briefly close my eyes, wishing for a stray asteroid to smash through the ceiling and kill me. “I just told you why.”
He leans across the table and grabs my hand. It’s so sudden, I yelp. And why are his hands so cold? The man has the flesh temperature of a corpse!
“Megan, I like you. I haven’t been this attracted to a woman in years. Maybe ever.”
My mouth drops open. All I come up with is a startled “Uh…”
He squeezes my hand so hard, I can already feel the bruises forming. “And I just want you to know that I get it.”
He stares at me intently. I realize I’m required to respond, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Get, um, what?”
He lowers his voice and leans closer. “That no one can replace your late husband. Obviously, he has a special place in your heart. But I really hope you’ll give me a chance. I want to get to know you better.” His gaze drifts down to the neckline of my dress, and his voice goes gravelly. “I booked a hotel in town so I wouldn’t have to drive back to Portland tonight. After dinner, we should go have a drink in my room.”
Ah. So here it is.
He wants to play hide the sausage with me.
The sooner the better, judging by the way he’s licking his lips as he stares at my boobs. We haven’t even ordered our entrées yet!
Smiling tightly, I withdraw my hand from his icy clutches. “If you’ll please excuse me, I have to visit the ladies’ room.”
I don’t wait for an answer. I simply rise from the table, taking my handbag with me, and turn my back and walk away.
I maintain my cool until I get inside the restroom. It’s decorated in soothing shades of beige and white and has fresh flowers on the counter. It’s also empty, so I’m free to toss my handbag onto the velvet divan against the wall and curse out loud.
I try not to think the worst of Craig. He’s a man, after all. They have needs. And we’re both single. He’s not doing anything wrong by making his intentions clear. It just felt so…calculated. So shallow.
So unlike everything I see in Theo Valentine’s eyes.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Megan,” I mutter, disgusted with myself. “Cut it out.”
I wash my hands in the sink, then slowly dry them, buying time because I don’t have to use the toilet but I’m not quite mentally prepared yet to face Craig’s no-nonsense approach to dating. I don’t understand why he didn’t ask Suzanne out. He could’ve bypassed dinner altogether and driven straight to his hotel!
Then I remember he called her “obvious,” and me “mysterious,” and get it.
Craig likes a challenge.
And for a man who likes a challenge, first-date sex in a hotel room with a tough-negotiating, flirting-handicapped smartass who’s still wearing her wedding ring after five years of widowhood is probably some kind of Olympic-level game.
I’m Mt. Everest, and he’s a climber with an eye to ascending the summit.
Enough stupid metaphors, Megan. What are you going to do?
“Just turn the conversation to something else. Get him talking about himself. That shouldn’t be hard.”
Dammit. I’m answering the voice in my head again.
Good thing I’m a great listener.
It’s official: I’m driving myself insane.
With a huff of aggravation, I snatch my handbag from the velvet divan, spin on my heel, and storm out the door of the ladies’ room.
Where I crash straight into Theo Valentine, on his way out of the men’s.
