I kept telling myself this wasn’t a date, but that was what it felt like. We had dinner in the dining room, with wine and candlelight. Soft music played in the background, and Ali had a bouquet of roses waiting for me when I arrived.
While we ate, we shared facts about ourselves and got to know each other. I told him about how I was the youngest of two and that my parents were still alive and married. He already knew I was from Memphis and that I was a journalist for The Force. He shared a few details about himself as well—that he was an only child, which was probably why his imagination was so wild from a young age. Only children, or the youngest child, usually had to learn how to entertain themselves. That was the case for me. My sister was ten years older than me, so she was out of the house while I was still super young and like a third parent more than anything else.
We talked about our likes and dislikes, our hobbies and interests, goals for the future. The only time it seemed like the light in his eyes dimmed was when we talked about marriageand kids. While I was excitedly waiting for that to happen in my future, Ali wasn’t sure if he’d ever experience that. Not because he didn’t want to, but because his heart had been hardened by people he trusted would keep it safe. I urged him to try love again so it could help him heal, and he didn’t completely reject it, so that was a plus.
When I took the last bite of my ice cream sundae, because he just so happened to have my favorite thing for dessert, I looked up and noticed him staring at me.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked curiously.
“How much I like spending time with you,” he confessed, making me blush.
“Good, because I like spending time with you.”
Ali chuckled. “I got something else you’d like too.”
Since I wasn’t expecting him to flirt with me, I almost choked on my wine. He leaped from his seat to pat my back, but I was too busy laughing to care.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, leaning down to look into my watery eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him as I laughed and tried to catch my breath. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“Clearly.” Now that he was sure I was okay, Ali allowed himself to release a soft laugh as well as he sat back down.
“You’re dangerous,” I realized.
Or maybe I always knew and was just now starting to accept it.
“How so?” he asked, getting back comfortable in his seat.
I didn’t respond right away as I watched him take a small sip of his wine.
“I’m starting to think the only boundary you have with me is professionally.”
Ali didn’t deny it. In fact, he smiled, and that was all I needed to see to know there was a 99 percent chance that I was goingto let him have his way with me before I went back to Memphis. Because I was the one who said nothing romantic or personal could happen between us, not him. And there was no doubt in my mind that if I changed my mind, he wouldn’t object.
“Is that a bad thing?”
My mouth twisted to the side as I weighed the options: have sex with my high school crush, who just so happened to be fine as hell and the number one urban and thriller author right now, or keep my legs closed and be his friend. The more time we spent together, the less I cared about the interview, but I didn’t want to tell him that. Hell, I could barely accept that truth myself. That was the whole reason I’d come here, and now, I was having candlelit dinners with the man.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I replied.
“Let me know when you do. Until then, I’ll behave.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
Those already lazy eyes lowered as he licked his lips. “AndI’mthe dangerous one?”
The laugh I released was soft as he stood and grabbed his empty plate. I did the same, following him into the kitchen. After I emptied my plate, he took it from my hand, his fingers grazing mine.
“Go sit down somewhere. You’re my guest,” he ordered.
“So? I still want to help.”
“Nah.” Ali’s hand went to my waist, and he gently guided me toward the living room. “It’s truly my pleasure to serve you. Go sit down, honey.”
Honey.
That was a first.
