Page 51 of Wicked Fortune

The words are out of my mouth before I can call them back, and I regret them immediately. Too much, too fast, and what the hell was I thinking? “I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot of filters, and I⁠—”

But he presses a finger to my lips before I can get the words out. “I won’t. I promise.”

“That was a stupid thing for me to say.” I shake my head, feeling like an idiot. “I mean, that’s not the kind of thing you say on a first date.” I bite my lower lip, then cock my head as I look at him. “This is a first date, right?”

“It’s a date,” he says. “It’s not our first.”

“Really?” I lean back, amused. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember if we’d gone out before. And considering I came over uninvited last time to give you grief, I don’t think it counts. No matter what direction the, um, encounter ended up going.

“Fair enough. But there’ve been dates. At least a half dozen times.”

I gape at him. “Did each goodnight kiss steal my memories? Because I’m a hundred percent sure I’d remember going out with you.”

“Well, the dates might have only been in my head.” He grins. “But they were so vivid I would have thought you’d remember them, too.”

I laugh, delighted by this man. “So they were good?”

“Damn good. Beyond good.”

I let out a long sigh. “Well, that’s a relief. It’s those imaginary dates that you really want to rock. If you can’t come across as awesome in someone else’s fantasies, you’ve got some pretty big problems.”

He chuckles, then moves a bit closer and rests his hand on my thigh.

I’m suddenly extremely aware of my body. And in the best possible way. “So, we’ve had all these dates,” I say, my voice low. “Tell me about them. Especially the first one. How did that happen?”

For a moment, I think he’s going to blow off my question, but just when I fear I’m going to have to come up with a new topic, he says, “I’ve watched you for a while, Aria.”

“Oh.” I lick my lips. The truth is, I’ve watched him, too. But since he’s so often in magazines and on entertainment-related news, that’s not too hard. Or too odd.

“Um, was that watching in a creepy, stalker way?”

He laughs. “No. Wait,” he adds, his brow furrowing. “Are the cameras I planted in your house creepy?”

I use the pillow in my lap to smack him, making him laugh, and definitely lightening the moment.

“I just mean that I’ve seen you out in the world. And I might have asked Nikki what you’re like.”

“Really? No wonder she gave me the—never mind.”

He laughs. “The masks for Masque? Yeah, I should send her some flowers for that.”

“What can I say? I wanted in.”

“Why?”

I open my mouth to tell him—then I remember that he’s still on my suspect list. He’s falling further and further down the list with each moment our banter goes on, and I tell myself sternly that I have to be strong. I can’t trust him just because I’m hot for him.

But maybe I’ll be able to learn more since he’s hot for me, too…

“Masque,” he urges. “Why did you want in?”

“I just … you know.” I lift a shoulder. “You hear stories. I didn’t even realize it was your place. I just thought it sounded … interesting.”

“It can be,” he says. “And sometimes it’s interesting just staying home.”

“Yes,” I say, meeting his eyes as my heart does a little squeeze. It’s a heated moment, full of possibility, and I have no idea why I break it, but I do, dropping my eyes, then looking back up at him with a slightly embarrassed smile. “When you asked Nikki what I was like, why didn’t you ask her to set us up?”

He takes my hand, the action so smooth and natural I’m almost certain he doesn’t even realize he’s done it. “You haven’t exactly been alone,” he says.