“Well,” she said softly. “That was… unexpected.”
Reid’s thumb brushed once against her hip before he let his hand fall away.
“Not really.”
She tilted her head. “No?”
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
He hesitated, a crooked little smile tugging at his lips.
“Though, to be fair,” he added, “I’ve had the problem since you backed me up against that brick wall behind Catch My Draft.”
Her brows lifted.
“Me?” Her voice came out drier than she intended. “Now, Mr. District Attorney, I think we both know who had who against that wall.”
His smile sharpened.
“Details,” he said. “I remember your hands just fine.”
Heat prickled at the back of her neck. Eleanor laughed, the moment lingering a second too long.
“Whatever,” she said, trying for annoyance and missing by a mile.
Reid stepped back slightly, though the space between them still felt thin.
“So… dinner this weekend?”
She folded her arms, mock-offended, though the spark in her eyes gave her away.
“Dinner?”
“There’s a little Italian place off Mill Street most people miss.”
She studied him.
“Is that a date?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Her heart thudded once.
He smiled, softer now.
“You can call it field research if that’s easier.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
“Then yes.”
Reid started down the steps.
Halfway to the Jag, he turned back.
“Saturday?”
