AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When we reach the valet station, I’m hardly shocked to see a pricey electric luxury vehicle roll up. “A Taycan? Now you’re just showing off.”
His hazel eyes widen. “And you know cars, which means I’m halfway in love with you already.”
Another chuckle escapes me as I slide into the passenger seat, reveling in the supple leather embracing me. The seat’s warmth and plushness, coupled with that opulent scent, is divine. “Sweet ride. What made you go electric?”
“Speed.”
“Okay,” I say. “Good answer. Top speed?”
“Close to one-sixty. Want to test it out?” There’s a teasing glint in his eyes that’s absolutely contagious.
“You know I am the law.”
He laughs. “You’re a homicide detective, not a traffic cop, Frankie.”
“Good point, but also no. I’d prefer to make it home in one piece.”
“Excellent point. It is one beautiful piece, too.”
I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “By the way, you’ll need my address to get there.” I rattle off my address, and he speaks it into the navigation system without missing a beat.
He gives me a sidelong glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “All set. Let’s get you home safely, beautiful Frankie.” His eyes darken as we merge into traffic.
Damn. His words send a shiver of lust down my spine. “You’re just saying that because I’m in this fancy dress.”
“I saw you on TV, remember? Gray suit with a light purple blouse. It showed off just enough of everything.” His smile grows before his gaze flicks back to the road.
I laugh again. “So, you hear about a murder and you’re sizing up the cop investigating it?”
He dismisses it casually. “Why not? There’s always some murder or another in this city, right? I like staying informed about my city.”
“Unfortunately,” I agree easily. “But the question still stands.”
“In the spirit of honesty,” he begins, handling the steering wheel like a champ even if he is going about fifteen miles over the speed limit. “The newscaster was talking, but your face was on the screen, so I muted her and watched you.”
“Like a stalker.”
He laughs. “Like a very observant man,” he counters. “It’s all about perspective.”
“If you say so, Damien.”
“I do. Where would you like to go on our date?”
I turn to him with a playful, almost flirty smile. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out?”
“Sure, but I haven’t gotten to know you well enough to know what you like and, more importantly, what you don’t like.”
“Fine. I love Mexican food the best, followed by Italian and Greek. Pretty much anything Asian except sushi. I like my meat cooked.” I realize what I say seconds later, but Damien doesn’t comment on it.
“Thanks for the help.” His smile is sincere, not playful or teasing, and not flirtatious. “I hate guessing games.”
“Me too, so I’ll ask, why me?”
His brows dip. “Why you, what?”
“Why do you want to go out with me?” I’m not fishing for compliments. I just like to know where I stand. “Be honest.”
He’s quiet for a full minute, following the navigation system and efficiently weaving through traffic. At a stoplight, he turns to me. “For starters, you’re gorgeous as hell. Been having the dirtiest thoughts about you all evening,” he admits. “For another, you’re smart and capable. And tough. I like a tough woman, and I like it more that you don’t treat me like I’m special just because I have a lot of money.”
