Chapter Three
ONCE AGAINZach stood in front of Asher Caldwell’s door, and the difference in circumstances was almost surreal.
“This is crazy,” he said under his breath.
For something he wanted so much, he’d flip-flopped over whether to show up for his date with Asher. When he’d fled Asher’s apartment the night before, he’d been ready to die of embarrassment. He had braced himself to be fired or at least politely asked to leave Caldwell and Monroe. He hadn’t expected both an apology and Asher showing interest in getting to know him better. But even though Asher had seemed sincere, a cynical, insecure part of Zach whispered Asher was doing it to keep Zach from suing him or revealing his secret vice, because if Asher was going to notice Zach, he would have done so before. He wasn’t proud of that little voice, born during his years in the DA’s office after seeing an ugly, manipulative side of human nature.
Zach tried to tell the voice to shut up, because he wanted to enjoy Asher’s company. Asher would probably realize Zach was pretty boring, but if this was Zach’s chance to get closer to the man he’d been fascinated by and lusted after for months, he wanted to take it. Still, the voice was there, dimming his pleasure while he went shopping and then got ready for the date. As he got closer to Asher’s apartment, the voice whispered more insistently, and now he had an acute case of nerves making him want to run.
He was being ridiculous, standing here in front of Asher’s door dressed in a new pair of the tight jeans Asher liked, this time in blue instead of black. He’d worn contacts again, opting for the clear ones instead of the blue ones, since Asher said he preferred brown eyes. Zach’s shirt was a deep bloodred, a color he’d chosen to help boost his confidence, but now it seemed a bit too much. Asher would probably laugh at him, his inner voice whispered, but he pressed the doorbell before he lost his nerve completely.
It wasn’t long before the door swung open, and Asher greeted Zach warmly. He was wearing jeans that were faded and washed to buttery softness, and a dove-gray cashmere sweater that made his eyes even more vividly blue. Rather than wearing loafers, he was barefoot.
“Right on time.” Asher leaned in to brush a kiss to Zach’s cheek before stepping aside to let him in. “Come on back to the kitchen. You can have a drink while I finish dinner.”
Asher looked so good, Zach wouldn’t have minded havinghimfor dinner instead, and he resisted the urge to press his hand against his cheek where Asher had kissed him. The peck, chaste as it was, made his skin tingle.
“A drink sounds good,” he said, deciding a bit of liquid courage wouldn’t go amiss. He caught a blend of delicious aromas coming from the kitchen, and he sniffed appreciatively. “Wow, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.”
“Tonight’s special is steak with wine sauce and potato gratin, with mocha Bundt cake for dessert,” Asher replied as he led the way to the kitchen, which was spacious, with marble countertops and high-end appliances that would be the envy of any professional chef. Asher gestured to the barstools at the large center island. “Have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine, or something stronger?” He picked up a glass of red wine that was almost empty and wagged it back and forth. “I’ve got a Malbec open to go with dinner, but if you want something else, that’s not a problem. My bar is well stocked.”
“Wine is good,” Zach replied, sliding onto one of the stools as he looked around. “Wow. My mother would kill for a setup like this!”
“Your mom likes to cook?” Asher asked as he retrieved a second wineglass. He poured a glass and offered it to Zach.
Zach took the glass, his fingers brushing Asher’s and sending a tingle all the way up his arm. “Thanks. Yes, she does. Of course with five kids, it’s fortunate she’s also good at it.” He hoped talking about his family was safe, since according to the rumor mill, Asher’s own family life was grim at best.
“Five kids?” Asher shot Zach a wide-eyed look as he returned to the oven to check on the potatoes. “Where do you rank—oldest, middle, or baby?”
“Oldest,” Zach admitted. “Then three sisters and my baby brother. He’s only six, and it’s a wonder he’s not a total brat because he’s spoiled rotten by the rest of us.”
Asher leaned against the counter and took a sip of wine, his expression wistful. “Must be nice.”
Zach was surprised by the comment; he never would have guessed Asher missed having siblings. Then again, brothers and sisters were natural allies—at least when they weren’t driving each other crazy.
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no,” Zach replied honestly. “I love having a big family about 99 percent of the time, but there are times I would trade any of my siblings for a shiny rock.”
“Are you all close?” Asher asked, watching Zach with genuine curiosity.
“Very,” Zach said. “I go home as often as work permits. My parents are both professors at Princeton, and all of my other siblings still live at home. Ellie is in her last year of med school, Jen is a college senior majoring in journalism, and Maggie’s a sophomore who wants to be a vet. Mikey wants to be a fireman. Or he did last weekend when I saw him. His career plans are somewhat fluid at the moment.”
A timer dinged, and Asher put his wineglass aside in favor of donning a pair of oven mitts so he could pull the potato gratin dish out of the oven.
“Well, he’s got plenty of time to decide. Who knows? Maybe he’ll follow in his big brother’s footsteps and go into law.” Asher nodded toward the doorway. “Come on, you can get settled in the dining room.”
Zach slid off the stool and picked up his glass before following in Asher’s wake. He was surprised to see they would be eating in a formal dining room, complete with fine bone china at each place setting and a floral centerpiece with lit candles in Christmas colors gracing the table. The place settings were adjacent to one another rather than across the table, the lighting was dim, and soft jazz played from discreet speakers in the walls.
Zach felt in serious danger of melting where he stood. For a man who claimed to be commitment-phobic, Asher had done an impressive job of providing an intimate yet tasteful setting for their date.
“It’s beautiful,” he said softly. “You’re a man of hidden talents, Mr. Caldwell.”
Asher smiled a bit bashfully as he placed the potato gratin on a trivet next to a warming dish. “Don’t be too impressed. In the interests of full disclosure, I took cooking lessons when I graduated from college, and I know how to Google ‘romantic date atmosphere,’ that’s all. Here, have a seat, and I’ll get dessert.”
“I’ll be impressed if I want to be,” Zach replied in a teasing tone, taking a seat as Asher had directed.
“I’ll be right back,” Asher said, and then he disappeared back to the kitchen.
Even though Asher had downplayed what he’d done, Zach was appreciative of his efforts. Zach chuckled, thinking about his offer for pizza and a movie at his apartment. Well, he hadn’t been raised in surroundings like this, so hopefully Asher wouldn’t think he was a bumpkin.
