Page 106 of Yours to Keep

My phone buzzed again. I expected it to be another message from the girls, but when I glanced back down at it, my stomach flipped.

Sullivan Crowne: I’m outside.

I stared at the message for a full three seconds, a smile already spreading on my lips. He’s early.

My heart did that ridiculous melty thing it’d started doing around him and I grabbed the navy wrap dress I settled on in that very moment. It was elegant, but not over-the-top. I slipped into my heels before I could talk myself out of the choice.

Me: On my way.

One last glance in the mirror, a quick swipe of lipstick, and I was out the door with my heart going wild and butterflies doing crazy loop-de-loops in my stomach. When I emerged from my building, Sullivan was leaning casually against his car like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread that specialized in devastatingly handsome billionaires trying to look approachable.

His suit was as impeccable as always, but the tie was gone. The top button of his shirt was undone, and it softened the sharp corporate edges of his daytime persona. He straightened when he saw me, his expression shifting into something openly appreciative that made heat crawl up my neck.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I answered, suddenly very aware of my own heartbeat.

He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that was possessive enough that it made me feel wanted. Needed, even. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You could have worn a tie, though.”

He looked shocked for a second, then started laughing when he realized I was joking. His mouth curved into a genuine, joyful smile. “Are you ready for our first HR-compliant date?”

I laughed. The nerves that had been wreaking havoc on my insides all day eased instantly. “I still can’t believe we had to sign relationship disclosure forms like we were filing taxes.”

“Romance isn’t dead,” he said solemnly. “It’s just legally documented.”

The restaurant he’d chosen sat tucked between two boutiques. As we approached, warm light spilled onto the sidewalk from tall windows. It was upscale but not intimidatingly so, with white tablecloths, soft jazz humming through the room, and the faint scents of garlic and butter floating in the air.

“This is perfect,” I said as a hostess held the door open for us.

He shot me a glance that was undeniably relieved. “My first choice came with six forks and required a jacket for the bread course.”

“No, thank you.” I grinned. “I would’ve been fine with fast food on a park bench too. Just for the record.”

Before he could respond, the hostess appeared and led us to a small table near the window. Sullivan pulled out my chair and I sat, smoothing my dress. He took the seat across from me.

The menus were leather-bound and heavy. I opened mine and immediately spotted several items written in a language I was reasonably sure was French.

“Oh good,” I said lightly. “Half of this looks like I might accidentally order a decorative centerpiece.”

He leaned forward slightly, smiling. “I’ll translate if you need to me to.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You speak French?”

“No, but I speak expensive restaurant fluently,” he joked. “It’s very useful in negotiations.”

The tension inside loosened another notch as the candlelight flickered between us. His gaze softened, lingering on my face in a way that made my pulse trip again. “Can I just address the elephant in the room?”

“What elephant?”

“It’s fucking amazing to finally be able to have dinner with you like this. Just down the road from the hospital instead of a three-hour flight away.”

I chuckled. “You’re not wrong, but that was also an incredible weekend.”

“One I plan on repeating very, very soon.” He winked.

A waiter appeared, taking our drink orders, and once he left, a comfortable silence settled between us.