Page 33 of Lethal Attraction

I let out a slight laugh. “I’m taking a very beautiful woman to dinner.”

“Flattering,” she says flatly. “But you know what I mean.”

I draw back. “Don’t think too hard about it. It’s just a date.”

Her eyes narrow. “As friends?”

Friends. The word sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

“Friends don’t carve their initials into each other’s chests.” I say pointedly. “I asked you on a date, Thalia. We aren’t friends.”

For someone so hellbent on being a menace, it’s unnatural to see the flicker of fear in her eyes. It’s gone before I can blink, but the flash of her uncertainty sticks with me as she smiles in return. “Then let’s get going, not friend.”

I close the door before walking over to the driver’s side. As I slide in beside her, I crank up the heater and pull away from the curb. Her scent, something sweet, like vanilla and honey, fills the cab, and I could drown in her. “What do you like to eat?”

She hums as she watches the passing scenery. “Carbs. I love pasta.”

“Italian it is,” I decide. “I know a great mom and pop restaurant run by an older couple who would be shocked and delighted that I’ve finally brought someone with me.”

I can feel Thalia’s eyes on me now. “You don’t date?”

“No,” I shake my head. “The surgeon lifestyle isn’t for everyone. It’s long hours and being away from home for days. What do you do for a living?”

She tenses, her shoulders pulling close to her ears as an elongated sound leaves her. “Uhhhh, pass.”

I snort. “This isn’t twenty-one questions. You can’t just pass on your turn. I want to know more about you.”

She turns away from me, distancing herself. “If I don’t want to answer, then I don’t have to.”

That makes me frown. I glance at her, taking in the way she’s drawn into herself with her hands folded tightly into her lap. I reach across, gently grabbing her palm as I bring it to the center console and brush my thumb over hers in a soothing gesture. “Okay, I won’t pry, but can you promise me something?”

It’s obvious she has some kind of unresolved trauma with dating. If I want to get to know her, I have to take things at her pace. Pushing will only make her distance herself further.

Her hand relaxes in mine as she turns towards me. “Sure.”

I give her a soft, reassuring expression. “If you don’t want to talk about anything, communicate that with me and I’ll change the topic. But don’t completely shut me out. How am I going to get to know you if you won’t answer something so simple?”

She nods. “You’re really hard to ice out, you know that? You’re just so…understanding.”

I chuckle. “Emotional maturity comes with age.”

She groans. “Ugh, don’t go riding your high horse now.”

“I’m very comfortable up here.”

“Freelance,” she says softly. “I do freelance work. Think of me as a virtual assistant.”

“See?” I lift a brow. “That wasn’t so hard.”

She smiles. “Yeah, yeah.”

We ride in the car for thirty minutes as I drive her to Brooklyn. The neighborhood we enter is quiet, and I park near a meter before getting out and opening her door.

“You’re so old-fashioned,” she muses.

“I am old, remember?” I joke as I lead her to the restaurant’s doors.

“Reed!” the owner, an older gentleman in his sixties with thick white eyebrows, greets loudly. “Good to see you again.” His eyes shift to my date before they light up. “And with a beautiful woman! Please sit anywhere.”