Page 24 of Manhattan Kiss

It’s an answer, but it’s not detailed enough to satisfy my curiosity. “And where’s home?”

“Over in the West Village.”

I frown. That’s not new information. Magda already told me that. I want to know why he’s not at home now. “I haven’t been in New York long, but that sounds close by?”

“Yeah, just a few blocks over.”

Our food arrives, interrupting his confession. I want to know more, but I don’t want him to think I’m being nosy.

When the server has left, he lifts his glass, and I follow his lead and do the same. “Here’s to idiot men who don’t turn up to dinner with beautiful women.”

My heart flips and heat spreads up my body, circling and pressing like Mr. Black has me naked and is doing a physical inspection.

“You’re happy I got stood up?” I say, faux irritation in my voice.

“I’m happy I’m having dinner with you,” he says, like what he’s just said is no big deal.

“Oh,” is all I can say in reply.

“Oh?” he asks.

“I don’t think I expected you to say that.” It’s as honest an answer as I can give him.

“I think you’re very attractive,” he says matter-of-factly.

His comment chases the breath from my lungs. I’ve never known a man to just…come out and say something like that to someone he barely knows.

“How long have you lived in New York?” I ask. “You’re British, but you seem very…”

He smirks. “I’m blunt. To the point,” he finishes my sentence for me. “I don’t see the need to be any other way. I’m attracted to you. I’m pleased whoever that guy was didn’t show up, because it means I’m getting to have dinner with you. Would you like me to leave you to wonder what I’m thinking?”

My heart is thudding in my chest. I’m not sure any man has ever been so forward in telling me he liked me. Certainly no one I barely know. It feels kinda powerful and I bite back a smile. “Absolutely not. It’s just unexpected.”

“I like to have things very clear in all areas of my life. And you shouldn’t be left wondering.” He says it as if I’m something he wants to respect and treat like glass. As if he doesn’t play games because I deserve better.

It’s shocking. And more than I could hope for.

“And you stay in a hotel for three nights a week,” I say, wanting to know more about this man who seems to hold me in such high regard.

“Yes. The other four I spend with my six-year-old daughter.”

“Oh,” I reply. Tonight is full of surprises. It was the last thing I expected him to say. I thought maybe he had some kind of arrangement with his wife where he’s allowed to cheat as long as it’s in a hotel. “But if you live just around the corner, why don’t you just stay there?”

“Because Willow’s there with her mother on the nights I’m in the hotel.”

“So when you’re there, is Willow’s mother there too?”

“No. We’re not together. She moves out. She has a place nearby. We move in and out and Willow stays in her home. It provides Willow with a more stable, secure footing. The inconvenience is all mine and her mother’s. As it should be.”

He speaks with such authority, like he’s thought about everything and every t is crossed and every i is dotted.

“I’ve heard of that arrangement but never seen it in action. How long has it been like that?”

“Three years. It works.” He pauses. “For now. Being at Hotel on Ninth Street when I’m not at the townhouse means I’m close by in case anything happens and I need to be at the house quickly.”

My heart lifts in my chest at his comment. “You’re a dedicated father.”

He doesn’t respond to that.