Jack glances down to my tablet screen, puts an index finger to the text, and turns the device so I can read. “It says here I shouldn’t tell you everything all at once or you won’t come back for more.”
“Maybe you and I should break all the rules.”
He swirls the wine offered by the steward and swallows. “Excellent.”
As the man fills our glasses, Jack asks him, “Can you have our waiter bring house salads while we think about what to order?”
“Certainly.” The steward backs away.
Meanwhile, my date sips his wine and eyes me over the stemware. “Being a bodyguard just happened. I was a newly unemployed soldier and CJ needed someone to look after him.”
There’s obviously a lot he’s leaving out but I don’t push. “Can I ask why a football player needs a bodyguard?”
When Jack laughs, it’s not superficial like most New Yorkers. The sound comes from deep within his chest and spreads across his face like the sun rising. “Most of the time, CJ just needs a driver. But he’s quite a celebrity and his fans can go nuts. At first, it was his ex-fiancé. After, when he got married and had kids, I stayed on to keep them all safe. They’re more like family to me.”
“Last night, I heard you say they’re moving and he’s getting out of the limelight. Are you going, too?” Immediately, I wish I could retract the question because a pained look clouds his face. The man’s got a minefield of subjects to be avoided.
I give him a lot of points for not sidestepping the subject. “I’m not sure, honestly. I know they want me to move with them but they don’t really need me and I just don’t think North Carolina is ready for Jack Taylor.”
“Probably not.” I grin, picturing him at a turkey shoot or a revival meeting.
“What about you? You planning on staying in New York forever?”
“Never thought about leaving. My practice is here, my patients, my apartment. My mother is close by, too.”
“Why did your family move from Utah?” He thanks the waiter when our salad bowls are placed in front of us and I use the opportunity to think.
How much do I want to reveal? “It’s a long story. Let’s just say my foster mother lives here in New York City. My birth mother is still in Utah.”
“Oh wow. I’m sorry.” Now it’s his turn to study his food and eat but I don’t want things to get awkward.
Quickly, I add. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” I need to change the subject or risk falling into a conversation that for years, has sent men packing.
Thank God the waiter arrives. “I’ll have the skirt steak special, mashed, and asparagus.”
Jack says, “Nice. Make it two. And bring the Barolo.”
We pass the menus to the waiter and when our hands touch, Jack takes hold of mine. “Forgive me for asking but why is such a beautiful woman not already taken?”
I try to find a witty answer or a flirtatious one but my mind goes blank when he squeezes my fingers. I look up into his intense eyes, past his strong chin, and thick lips. It’s way too soon to tell him I always thought my libido was broken. Before him, no man ever caused my tits to go hard with a glance nor have I ever had to rinse out damp undies from someone just holding my hand.
I shrug. “I think I intimidate most men.”
He guffaws, turning other patrons’ heads in our direction. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you, five-foot-five? One-twenty?”
He pauses, cheeks a little red. “Oh shit. I should never mention a woman’s weight. Forget I said that.”
“You were right on the money and it’s fine.”
The smile he shoots me takes all the oxygen from my lungs. While we finish our meal, he talks about the antics of Mel’s three kids and how she and CJ met. I’m not sure if he’s kidding when he shares this crazy story about a stalker who abducted Mel and almost had her killed.
By the time he ends his story, two wine bottles are empty. I don’t want the evening to end but I’m not ready to jump into bed, either. What does a guy like Jack expect after an expensive meal?
“Can I leave the tip?” Nervous again, I fish around in my purse for my wallet.
“Sure. If you want to.” Soon, his palm is at my back, leading me out of the restaurant. The night is a perfect fall evening in Manhattan.
His gaze falls to my lips and I’m pretty sure I’m about to be kissed. “Want to walk for a bit?”
