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“You have a lot of money?” I laugh at his shocked look. “At least three people asked me how I know a billionaire tech genius.”
His brows lift, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. “They called me a genius?”
I stare at him for a second and then burst out laughing. “Seriously?”
“What? It’s always nice to hear,” he insists with a chuckle.
All too soon, we’re turning onto my block, and disappointment washes over me. The evening will soon be over and for the first time in a long damn time, I’m sad to see a man go.
“Hey, Frankie. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, just thinking about how surprising this evening has been.” That’s all I’m willing to admit, at least to Damien.
“It’s been surprising for me, too. Usually, I hate these things. Everyone either has their hand out for money or photos, or they’re looking to snag a rich husband.”
“Poor little rich tech genius?”
He laughs, totally not offended by my teasing, which is a point in his favor. “No, just exhausting. Tonight was exhilarating, and I think it’s all because of you.”
The car comes to a stop at the curb right in front of my house, and I sigh before I turn to Damien, smiling. “I guess we’ll find out if you ever figure out where you’re taking me for dinner, Mr. Wolfe.” With those words, I step from the car and close the door with a reluctant sigh.
“Frankie, wait up!” Damien jumps out of the car and catches up to me. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
It’s an unexpected gesture. Most men assume I can fend for myself—which I can—but it’s nice of him to offer. “That’s sweet.”
“That’s me, a sweet billionaire tech genius.” He laughs before his hand goes to the small of my back. “Nice place.”
“It is, and it’s mine.” It’s what matters to me most, that I have a place that is all mine.
We reach my doorstep too soon, and I turn to look up at Damien. “Thanks for the ride. And the walk to the door.”
“My pleasure.” His smile is warm as he leans forward, and I think, no, I know he’s going to kiss me.
My body heats up until I feel a bead of sweat slide down my spine in anticipation of the feel of his lips, soft and thick, against my own. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had a man between my thighs, making me writhe and moan with pleasure. And now that the chance is here, I’m hungry for it.
But Damien’s lips never touch mine. His lips land on my forehead in a kiss that’s so tenderly sweet, so soft and equally hot that my panties go up in flames.
“Good night, Frankie. Sweet dreams.”
My gaze stays on him as he jogs down the four steps that take him back to his sleek black car. He slides behind the steering wheel and turns to me, motioning for me to go inside. With a smile, I do just that, realizing I can’t hear his electric car pulling away.
I’m so fucking giddy as I push the door closed, I can’t stand it. My smile is so wide that my cheeks ache, but I temper my glee with a big dose of reality. I’m a broke-ass homicide detective, a cop, and he’s rich and famous, plus a legit genius. We have nothing in common.
Nothing at all.
“Except for sizzling chemistry,” I say, because it feels like a key factor. “He’s probably just being nice,” I say to myself because that’s what rich guys do. They’re either ruthless or too kind, too nice, to stay on the right side of the law.
My fingertips brush against my forehead, thinking about the kiss because there was nothing nice about that kiss. It was an intense forehead kiss, and it surprised me. Nothing ever surprises me. Rarely, anyway.
I wonder what else Mr. Wolfe has up his sleeve.
I bet Google knows.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Damien
Waiting.
