Page 28 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

“I do,” she says.

“Good,” I say. “Then I did something right. This is a fantastic Ornellaia Vendemmia d'Artista Special Edition Bolgheri Superiore that comes straight from Tuscany. Have you ever had it?”

“No,” she says crisply. “It sounds a little out of my price range for dinner drinks.”

“Well, enjoy then. I like the finer things in life, Ivy. I won’t skimp on this date, don’t worry.”

The servers leave us alone again and Ivy gathers her nerve. “It’s not a date,” Ivy says, once they’re out of ear-shot. “And I won’t be fucking you tonight, Nolan. No matter how pricey the wine or how good the food.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ivy. I don’t get girls in bed by wining and dining them. It’s the talking that lowers all those keen defenses and inner voices telling them to run away as fast as they can.”

She laughs. And this time, I think it’s real. “Well, the rumors seem to be true all the way around. You certainly are charming. And charisma? You’ve got it in spades. But I don’t fall for charm.”

“Is that why Richard is boring? I mean, come on. District attorney’s office? Tell me, does he have grand dreams of public service once his five years are up? State’s attorney, maybe? Federal judge? I’m practically falling asleep as I talk.”

“It’s a noble profession. Putting criminals away.”

“Criminals like me?” I ask with a wink.

“You were never tried.”

“Correct. I never was.”

She presses her lips together, wanting to reply, but afraid to.

“Say it, Ivy. Go ahead. I know you want to.”

She swallows hard and goes for it. “Did you do it?”

I smile as she fidgets in her chair. “Wait until we’ve been dating a week and then I’ll ask you if you think I did it.”

“A week?” Her eyebrows knit together.

“Do you think I’m a one-night kind of guy?”

“Absolutely. But I think you probably make your targets think it’s more, just to get through that one night.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

She gives me an indulgent smile this time. It’s funny. She doesn’t even realize what I’m doing. Putting her through this emotional rollercoaster. Watching her expressions change. Watching her fight her instincts and give in.

“After this dinner I’m going back to my room to sleep—alone—and tomorrow morning I expect that jet to be ready and waiting to take me home.”

“What if I want to hire you tomorrow?’

“What?” She says it loud, too. It echoes off the high ceilings of the small private dining room. “You are too much.”

“No really. I liked your idea, Ivy. And I know there’s more to it. But I really do want to fuck you. So I can’t hire you today or that would be inappropriate.”

Her mouth hangs open.

I reach over and close it up with a fingertip to her chin. “Close your mouth, Ivy Rockwell,” I croon. “You’re making my dick hard just thinking about how you’ll suck it tonight.”

She blinks. Twice.

“Does Richard talk dirty to you, Ivy?”

More silence.