What? No. Back up. No swooning. He’s with someone else, remember?
When he spoke, he did so in a low, deep voice that was like a gentle caress. “Hey.” His warm scent enveloped me. “Could I ask you for a favor?”
2
LEXI
Iwanted to laugh. No one apart from my mom had ever asked me for a favor in the past year, especially not rich men in bars.
“Considering that I’m about to leave, I’m very tempted to say no,” I said, preparing myself to say no to whatever outrageous plan he came up with. It would be outrageous, that I was confident about.
A wealthy man did not ditch his date for any good reason.
“But?” he prompted, a confident smile spreading on his lips.
God, he looked ridiculously charming. So much so that I found myself wondering if he’d been this handsome in his twenties. On second thought, I didn’t care for the younger look on him. There was something about the way he held himself, a distinguished air, that made him irresistible to me.
“But I promised myself that I’d have an adventure tonight, and I must say, I’m actually curious about what you’re going to ask,” I admitted.
He laughed a beautiful, throaty laugh as the few lines around his eyes crinkled.
But he is taken, I reminded myself.
And besides, since when had I gone for older men? There was easily more than ten years between us, and I’d only ever dated Dylan, who was the same age as me.
When he looked at me again, amusement was etched all over his face.
“All right,” he said, lowering his voice, “can you help me confirm something about my date? I think she just pocketed my watch.”
The overhead lights caught the angles of his jaw, and I swallowed. He looked handsomer by the minute. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t had a thing for older men before. I did now.
But kleptomaniac date or not, this woman was probably a wealthy socialite, just like him. Did I really want to get involved in this?
My gut said yes. I wanted to help him.
“I don’t want any trouble,” I said.
His gaze deepened, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes seeming to still in seriousness. “I would never let anyone get away with troubling you,” he answered.
I swallowed. This was going to be hard.
“Why me?” I asked. “You don’t even know me.”
“Because,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, “you’ve been watching her all night. And not in a jealous way, but in a calculating way. Like you’re trying to figure something out about her.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his observation. He was right. I had been watching her, something nagging at me about the way she carried herself, the way she kept checking her purse, the nervous energy that reminded me of my Mom.
“You recognize something about her, don’t you?” he pressed gently.
My stomach dropped. Growing up with a mother who had a habit of “borrowing” things that didn’t belong to her had taughtme to read the signs. The way someone’s eyes would dart around a room, the subtle tells, the nervous energy barely contained beneath a smooth facade.
His date was wearing that look now. I’d seen it on my mom countless times. When she indulged in petty shoplifting during my childhood, laughing it off whenever my grandpa scolded her. Or more recently, when she took money from my purse while I was staying with her after Evie was born.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” I said, attempting to convey finality in my voice. What if I was wrong? What if she hadn’t stolen from him and insteadIgot into trouble?
Sidestepping him, I walked away. I was determined to get away from this man with dangerously beautiful eyes. Especially considering he was on a date with someone elseandtrying to flirt with me.
I’d taken no more than five steps when a movement in the distance caught my attention. The man’s date had stood up, and for a fleeting moment, I saw her eyes flicker to the exit before she turned and caught me looking. A nervous look came over her before it was gone, quickly replaced by a steely and hard expression, one meant to tamp down all signs of emotion.
