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“You have to admit, this was pretty genius of them.” Before Eva could question me further, our server arrived to take our order. He was polite and efficient, something I suddenly appreciated in a waiter.
“What was genius of my partners and so-called friends?” She picked up the thread of conversation as soon as the waiter disappeared, but I was still focused on her licking her lips as she ordered.
“You. We have good chemistry, and we already know each other, too. They’re trying to up your chances of winning and, I have to say, I admire the cojones.”
“Hmph, I didn’t even think of it like that. In that case, I accept the challenge. Come on, Playboy, give me your best first-date moves.”
“Who says I have date moves?”
Disbelief lit up her eyes. “Oh, please, I’ve heard your podcast and read your column. You definitely have date moves.”
No point arguing the truth. “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, Eva. Red is definitely your color.”
An almost invisible shade of pink stained her cheeks, it was fucking beautiful, and I grinned back. “Red is everyone’s color.”
“Not like this. The red just calls more attention to you, but with your black hair and those curves, it’s enough to make a man forget he’s a gentleman.”
“Who’s ever accused you of being a gentleman?”
I shrugged. “I have my moments, opening doors and bringing flowers. Gentleman shit.”
The laugh that escaped was deep and husky—throaty, even. It was sexy as hell, is what it was. “Gentleman shit. I like that.” She blinked and leaned forward. “And you look especially handsome tonight.”
What? “Okay, are you going to kill me later tonight or something?”
She laughed again and, just like that, I was distracted. “Not unless you give me a reason to. I’m just being a good date, and you do look good tonight.”
“Thank you, Eva.” Our gazes locked and, in that moment, I knew without a doubt that Eva wanted me, too. “Does it make being bad easier now that you have permission from your partners?”
She blinked. “No. It’s easy because I know that you don’t want what I do, so no matter what happens, my heart isn’t at risk. I can have fun as much as the next girl.”
“You can?”
Her gaze narrowed to slits. “Such a funny guy.”
The salad course came out first and conversation slowed but never stopped. “If I hired you to do marketing for Your Best Bachelor, would you?”
“Why not? I’m not ideologically opposed to your business and you don’t do any real harm, so, sure. Though you don’t need my help.”
“Been watching me, Eva?”
She shrugged. “I’m always looking for new clients, until I’m not.”
That teased a laugh out of me. “Once you realized you hated me, you didn’t want to help me?”
“I don’t hate you, Oliver, but I think it’s safe to say we wouldn’t work well together. You think you know everything even when you don’t.”
“And you’re completely inflexible, making me wonder if that’s a trait that translates everywhere.”
Her gray eyes darkened and she licked her lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I nodded slowly. “If I ask real nice?”
She tossed her head back and laughed once again, drawing stares from nearby diners. “Okay, I’m starting to see your first date charm.”
“Just now?”
“You’re charming in general, but now I can see why women buy your schtick. Online, you’re a pig, but in real life, you are pretty charming. Nice and sweet. A decent guy.”
“High praise from you.” She rolled her eyes and sipped her scotch, pushing away her mostly eaten entrée.
“False praise makes men lazy. And now you know—when I give you a compliment, I mean it.”
The heat between us was unbelievable. Smoking hot was what I’d call it, but Eva seemed… not quite unaffected, but not so affected she couldn’t function, where I was barely hanging on every time she slicked her tongue across her lush lips. “Then I humbly accept.”
“So, what’s your next move? Dessert?”
Now that she’d put me on the spot, dessert seemed cliché, but like I told my readers, clichés existed for a reason. “Dessert sounds like a good next step, Eva. What a wonderful suggestion.” She rolled her eyes, but it was all playful; she wanted to see what I’d do next. Hell, she was eager for it. “The question is,” I leaned in playfully, my gaze settled on her mouth, “whose house has better dessert? Yours or mine?”EvaYour place or mine. It was a standard date question these days, asked anywhere between the third and tenth date, depending on the couple. It was a question every woman expected to be asked, but leave it to Oliver to ask it in such a clever and charming way that it was damn near impossible to tell him to shove his presumptuousness where the sun don’t shine.
That was what I should have done. Instead, I licked my lips and smiled back at sexy First Date Oliver and said, “I have caramel and peanut butter ice cream in my freezer.”
