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“It certainly is,” she says, looking me up and down like I am a mannequin in her studio.

“You ready to go?” I ask, helping her down the last two steps and onto the sidewalk.

“Yes, where are we going?”

“For dinner.” I like playing games with her, it’s fun, and her smile when I do makes it even better. I open the car door for her and help her get in. My hand on the small of her back. She’s short, and my car isn’t exactly made for short people. I can feel her eyes on me as I walk around to my side of the car. She’s surprised, but at the same time I think she likes it.

It’s not a far drive to the restaurant. Channing is wringing her hands in her lap; she’s nervous. She’s also quiet, which is very awkward. Do I put music on? I think about my playlist and decide that’s a no. So weird silence it is, unless I can think of something to say. I keep glancing at her when the road ahead is clear.

“Are you nervous?” I ask because she’s still squeezing her hands together, and seems really stiff and uncomfortable.

“No, my hands are just a bit stiff from working on your, umm, suit this morning. That’s all.” She quickly moves them.

“Stiff, huh?” I raise a brow at her word choice. “Just checking, you seem nervous. I don’t want to make you nervous.”

“You don’t.” I think I do, though. She laughs and starts making small talk with me about the kids’ birthday, and her work. She’s gone from silent to chatty — definitely nerves. I can feel mine jittering too as we sit down at the table reserved for us.

“Umm, I don’t eat sushi,” she says sheepishly.

“We can leave, and go somewhere else,” I say, pushing my chair back.

“No, I’ll just order the vegetarian ones,” she says softly. “We aren’t going to find somewhere else to eat now.” I pull my chair back to the table. Channing chose to sit next to me, not opposite me. I have to angle myself carefully so my legs don’t touch hers. She doesn’t seem to be worried, because when she shifts in her chair her knees touch my thigh.

It’s funny watching her direct the sushi with the chopsticks that she can’t actually use. She only eats the rice and avocado. The way she just goes with it, most women would have kicked up a fuss and asked to leave. Or been too embarrassed to admit they don’t eat sushi and died of anaphylactic shock. Channing is classy, but she has none of those New York society airs and graces. I think that’s why she’s so appealing to me.

I know she’s touching my leg on purpose now, I see the glint in her eyes when I don’t move mine away. She’s sassy and unafraid of getting what she wants; I get that from the easy conversation and the way she carries herself.

“So, the tattoos are a surprise,” she says in a moment of quiet.

“I am sure there are few things about me that might surprise you, Channing,” I say, watching the subtle changes in her body language. “I’m not all stamps and suits.”

“You certainly are not.” We exchange a few minutes of sexy banter, and then she asks a few more serious questions.

“I’m not looking for a wife, I need you to know that. I’m not even sure I’m looking to date.”

“I’m not looking for a husband.” She seems unsure about that. Channing doesn’t know what she wants yet, and that’s okay. I won’t hurt her by hiding what it is I want though.

“Good, I think we could have fun together. I just wanted to be sure you knew how I felt.”

“I’d like to have fun with you, Kalon.” She shifts her leg again, her lashes flutter, she’s flirting more and more. She makes a point of saying my name, and I like the way it sounds rolling off her tongue. I’ve imagined that tongue in more than one way this evening. I’m secretly glad that my son slid that condom across the counter. However, I think I might make her wait a while — I want to see her again. I’d like her to have a reason to want to do that. After dinner, we walk back to my car, slowly. I hold her hand, it’s small and fits in mine perfectly. She doesn’t pull away or stop me.

I have to consciously stop myself from smiling. She smells sexy, her perfume is sweet and has a sultry warm undertone. I breathe it in deeply as I help her into the car. Leaning in to help put her seatbelt on, it's just an excuse to get closer to her. Our faces line up and eyes lock. The passing traffic fades away, and the only sound I hear is my heart beating like it’s trying to break out of the prison that is my ribcage. I kiss her. Without thinking, I just lean in and do it. One taste, that’s what I intended it to be on the sidewalk of a busy Manhattan street; it isn’t the place for more. But, when her hand slides slowly up the side of my neck, and her tongue moves with mine, I want more.

Common sense stops me. Well, someone honking their horn for our parking spot stops me. I have to catch my breath as I duck out of the open car door, closing it. What the hell was that?

Fuck me. Who knew a kiss could be that sexy…

She tastes like heaven and sin sweetly mixed together in a cocktail of chaos. I slide into my seat, not even trying to hide the way my body has reacted to our kiss. Pulling away so Mr. Impatient behind me can take the parking spot, I put my hand on her thigh. I see her smile, and the sweet pink blush that is creeping from her cheeks down to her cleavage. She doesn’t put her hand over mine, but I can feel her squeeze her legs together and squirm in the suede seat. It had the exact same effect on her.

There’s an unspoken tension in the car, the air is thick with the aftereffects of that one kiss. One wasn’t enough. Maybe because I’ve been alone so long, maybe because it’s her. I want more, but I also want her to know I am not an asshole and can wait. I move just my thumb back and forth over the soft, smooth fabric of her dress. I silently thank the parking gods that there’s a spot close to her house, and stop my car.

I open her door and help her out; she stands there, right in front of me. Looking up, through her lashes. There’s something so sexy about this woman. A certain sexuality that I am struggling to resist.

“Do you want to come in?” she asks, at the top of her steps.

“I very much do, but I think we both know that’s a bad idea on the first date.” She looks slightly wounded, like it’s a rejection. I lean in, and whisper right so that my breath tickles that ‘she-spot’ behind her ear. “Next time, though, I won’t be a gentleman. I promise.” I kiss her there on the top step, and this time there’s nothing restrained about it, for either of us. My hands skim her sides, and her ass, pulling her right against me. She messes up my hair running her fingers through it. The way she moans into my mouth, I want to take back what I said and literally rip off that dress right there. When we stop for a breath, I step away. With a smile I can’t wipe off my face, I say, “Goodnight, Channing.” I can feel her watching me as a walk away, but I dare not look back.