“Bad. You want a consistent texture.”
“Does it have a flavor?”
He nodded. “This one does. Mint.”
“Hm.” I sniffed it. “I should try this.”
“Don’t rush,” he warned. “We have time.”
For the next several minutes, Lennox gave me a quick lesson on picking the right cigar. In the end, I chose the Delicioso Black Cherry. Cross returned with our drinks, Lennox’s cigar, and two rectangular ashtrays made of steel. Before he walked away, he told Lennox to let him know if we needed anything else. Once we were alone again, Lennox showed me how to cut and prime my cigar.
“Ready?” he asked.
Nodding, I said, “Whenever you are.”
“Don’t inhale,” he instructed. “Puff.”
Putting the stogie in my mouth, I went over the tips he’d given me and lit the cigar. The first puff wasn’t pleasant, but I eventually got the hang of it.
Another drink and half a cigar later, I relaxed in my seat. The conversation had flowed freely. We talked about sports, history, and karate. I learned he was also a black belt, which explained why I couldn’t get out of his hold at the bar. Lennox liked to play golf, watch football, and read. I loved that he was a sexy, athletic nerd—a far superior man than most of the fools who tried to holla. I also knew myself, though. I couldn’t decide if I was just desperate, grateful to him, or really enamored by him. Because under normal circumstances, he would’ve been the exact type I’d run away from with the quickness for fear of feeling bored or stuck. Yet, I found myself enjoying him, hearing him talk about his work and his life.
We’d already established that we knew a lot of the same people. Lennox had actually worked with my father on several occasions, since they both held faculty positions at the university. And he was floored when I’d told him my niece was in one of his classes. Now, we were talking about siblings.
“Damn, eight?” he asked.
Nodding, I said, “Yes, there are eight of us—Tristan, Paityn, Duke, Dexter, Dallas, me, Bliss, and Asa. My mother went through a soap opera phase, so we were all named for a character on one of her stories.”
He chuckled. “Wait a minute, I actually recognize some of those names. Duke is fromGeneral Hospital, Dexter is fromDynasty, and Asa is fromOne Life to Live?”
I laughed. “You got it. Don’t tell me you watch soaps?”
Waving a hand, he said, “My grandmother watched them all. When we were kids, we couldn’t talk to her duringDynasty. That was her show.” He stared at his glass. “After she died, I tried to sit through one episode and couldn’t make it.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I learned a lot from those shows.”
“Really? Like what?”
I peered up at the ceiling, biting on my bottom lip. Then, I ticked off several reasons. “Ball gowns are perfectly acceptable for a regular dinner, shoulder pads are not what’s up, no one dies when you think they do, slaps can be just as effective as a punch or a kick, sex is good in a pool, and…” I scratched my temple. “Stay away from stairs when a raging bitch is after your man or your company, because your ass is tumbling down those mugs and you will be left for dead.”
Lennox grinned. “You thought about this, huh?”
Shrugging, I said, “You asked.”
He sipped his Bulleit. “I have another question.” After I gestured for him to go ahead, he asked, “Why are you the Breakup Expert?”
“I think we need a second date before I tell you that story.” The words had come out before I could stop them. Maybe it was the bourbon? Maybe it was the cigar? I could count on one hand the men who’d intrigued me enough to evenwanta second date, let alone bring it up during the first date. More than likely, it washim—coupled with this place and my hormones.
Lennox picked up my hand, traced each of my fingers. “Does this mean you’re going to let me see you again?”
I arched a brow. “Depends on what you want to see?”
“Anything you want to show me.” He leaned forward, circling my nose with his. “Everything.”
“Shit,” I grumbled. The hint of coffee, tobacco, and bourbon on his breath was intoxicating. “I…”
My mind had already fast-forwarded to the bedroom or the floor or the front seat of the car—or that wall over there. Yet, broaching the subject, making my move, had me fucked up. Because I was in unchartered territory, wanting something I didn’t think I was ready to have. But oh, damn, Ireallywanted it. At the same time, I instinctively knew a second date would tilt my world on its axis. The thought of another date, more time with him, letting him get under my skinandin my pants…scared the shit out of me.
“I’m on punishment,” I blurted out.
