I noticed how hot he looked in the garage, but in the darkness of the night, he appears downright dangerous…in the best way possible.
Gah!
Luckily, I pull myself together just as he reaches my door.
I pop it open, and he says, “Hey, I hope I wasn’t going too fast for you. I thought I lost you at that one light right past the arena.”
Slipping out, I smooth down my miniskirt and wave my free hand. “No, you were fine. That light just changed really fast. But I gunned it and made it, no problem.”
Chuckling, he says, “I noticed that.” Then, raising one brow, he asks, “You still up for coming in?”
I laugh. “Well, we’re here, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are,” he replies. “But you can always change your mind, Madison. You’re in charge of how this night goes.”
I appreciate his candor and his consideration.
Damn, I’m liking him more and more.
Smiling, I tell him, “Yes, I would still like to come in.”
He shoots me back a million-dollar smile. “Great. Let’s go in, then.”
Lennox leads the way, and I follow him into his big-ass house.
The entry hall is stunning, all hardwood and dark marble, and I have to let him know, “I swear, your house is next-level.”
“Thanks,” he says, chuckling. And then he adds, “I know you sell real estate, so would you like a little tour?”
I nod ecstatically. “Sure.”
I am curious to see the rest of his house.
After we cover most of two expansive floors, I determine that this man lives in my freaking dream home.
We finish up in a large living room, boasting more dark wood and traditional furnishings, and I have to admit, “Damn, Lennox, I want your house.” I raise a brow, and with a twinkle in my eyes, I say, “I have a cute little carriage house. Would you want to trade?”
Laughing, he replies, “As tempting as that offer sounds, I think I’ll stick with what I have.”
“Aww,” I pshaw, waving my hand. “You’re no fun.”
Mischief sparkling in his dark sable eyes, he says in a low tone, “I guess we’ll see about that as the night wears on.”
Not to be outdone, I volley back, “Yes, I guess we will.”
We end up seated on the sofa, where we talk for a while. We really do just focus on getting to know each other.
I learn he’s twenty-nine and grew up in Wisconsin, and hockey has always been in his life.
I inform him that I’m twenty-seven and have always lived in Phoenix.
I also find out that he used to play for the Chicago Blackhawks.
I tell him that before I started a career in real estate, I was a cocktail waitress in a casino.
“Oh, wow,” he says. “I bet you have some stories to tell from working there.”
“A few,” I admit, “but nothing too crazy. Most of the time, things were pretty routine. The best part of that job, though, was definitely the tips.”
