Chapter 3
Blakely
Not wanting to stick out like a tourist, I choose black leggings and a black tunic for daywear that will easily turn into nightwear. Bright hoop earrings dress up the look, but still, with my pale hair and skin, the outfit needs more color. So, I add a red necklace made by a local artist.
I paint my lips with the same shade, add some blue eyeliner, and depart from my office. The restaurant is near, so I figure I’ll walk and meet Jack there. When I exit the elevator, I’m surprised to see him in my lobby, leaning against a wall of mailboxes.
“Hey.” He removes his reflective sunglasses so I can watch him slowly gaze up and down my body. Taking my hand, he squeezes it. “You look great.”
“Not so bad yourself.” And it’s true. He’s dressed in black jeans, black t-shirt, and an open leather jacket. A tattoo peeks above the line of his t-shirt at the neck, a kind of a tease of what may be beyond.
“Ready?” There’s a small smirk on his face which makes me realize I’ve been staring.
“I-ah, yes.” My cheeks heat as he opens the door.
“Mel said this place is top notch but I’ve never eaten there, myself.” His hand slips to the small of my back and wicked thoughts crowd my mind.
On the sidewalk, his neck cranes to stare up at the marble and glass facade. “You work in a real nice building.”
I lean into him and follow his gaze. “I share the space with another analyst. We both have small offices on the fourth floor. Expensive, though.”
We walk south on Fifth Ave. and he checks out my shoes. “Glad to see you’re not one of those four-inch-heels types.”
“They’re really not good for the back, the calves, or overall well-being.”
He chuckles but doesn’t say more, probably because the sidewalks are crowded, limiting conversation. My shorter legs have to work to keep up with the fast-city pace.
I try to think back to the list of first-date questions I memorized earlier. “Are you from around here?”
“I grew up all over.” His tone grows tight and I make a note not to broach the subject again.
When the light turns green and the yellow man blinks on the traffic sign, his hand grips mine tightly. “You?”
“Born in Utah but moved to Manhattan in middle school. I’ve lived here ever since. I figure that makes me a native.”
“We’re here. This is us.” He opens the door with his palm again on my lower back. Then, we’re led to a back booth and the hostess hands us a wine list.
I’m a bit surprised by the prices and reevaluate my prejudices concerning a bodyguard’s salary. “I’ll have a Pino Grigio.”
“The Italian.” Jack points to the most expensive bottle on the list, leans over the table, and smiles. “You surprised me.”
“Why is that?”
“Were you messing with me or did you really look up what to do on a second date?”
I pull my tablet out of my purse, check the history, and slide it over. “There it is. No lie.”
His chuckle is warm as he folds his sunglasses and stores them in the front pocket of his leather jacket. “This article is over three years old. Do you suppose the rules have changed since then?”
“Probably.” I swallow hard, drawn into the depths of his beautiful eyes with lashes so thick, they seem unreal.
He picks up a menu, gaze still locked on mine. “So, women love a man with secrets, huh?”
“I think you don’t have to worry about being an enigma. You’ve got that down pat.”It’s not bad for my first flirt in years.
His grin widens, a small dimple forming in his right cheek. “I’m not all that mysterious.”
“Really? Can I ask how you happened to become a bodyguard?”
