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“Tell you what,” I say. “I’m not going to kiss you.”
“No?” She asks in surprise.
“Did I detect some serious disappointment in your tone?”
Daphne laughs and rolls her eyes. “How about a nice handshake?”
“I have a better idea,” I counter. “If you kiss me within the next minute, tomorrow morning I’ll donate $100,000 to Amnesty International.”
Her grin slides away and her eyes widen. “I love Amnesty.”
“I figured.”
“$100,000. Wow.”
“Fifty seconds.”
She meets my gaze, her eyes bright and her lips curved up into a smile. But a couple seconds later, it fades.
“I don’t want a relationship,” she says. “Not because of you, because of me. I was engaged, and I’m still getting over how that ended.”
“A kiss, Daphne. Just one kiss.”
A little crease forms between her brows. She opens her mouth to protest again, but then takes me by surprise when she grabs two fistfuls of my coat and pulls me closer, then presses her lips to mine.
I instinctively put my hands on her hips, groaning lightly when she parts her lips and brushes her tongue against mine. Her mouth is soft and warm, and she tastes faintly of the cherry she saved for last on the sundae she ate earlier.
I savor every second of our kiss until she pulls away, breathless, her eyes wide as she looks up at me.
“Lunch next Sunday,” she murmurs.
“Or sooner if you miss me too bad,” I say, grinning.
Suppressing a smile, she says, “Goodnight, Olivier.”
“Goodnight, Daphne.”
I wait until she’s inside her apartment to turn and walk down the stairs to the building, feeling like I’m walking on air. She kissed me. And it wasn’t just for Amnesty, though I will gladly sign that check the moment I get into the office in the morning.
Ben is leaning over the passenger seat, giving me a thumbs up in the passenger window of my SUV. His approval makes me smile.
That was one hell of a first date. But there’s no way I’m sticking to the plan and waiting nine days to see Daphne again.
Chapter Twelve
Daphne
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Ty frowns at me from across his desk. “I think I should take tonight, and you can switch me for another night when all the attention has died down.”
“That’s ridiculous. Tonight’s my night. Don’t you have dinner plans with your wife?”
He hesitates. “Yeah, but your safety matters more than celebrating my wife’s MBA at a steakhouse. I can reschedule it.”
I sigh softly. It’s been six days since photos of my non-date with Olivier were posted online, and there’s been a surge of interest in both of us since. Photographers have followed me everywhere I went this week. And now my boss is worried that having photographers following me and the volunteers I’m training tonight could cause alarm among the homeless people I encounter tonight.
“It’ll be fine, Ty. Really. You always tell me I’m good at reading situations and backing off when things get tense. And Aliyah is looking forward to this dinner. She worked hard for her MBA.”
He wavers. “Maybe Nina can do it.”
“Her son has a band concert tonight.”
“Shit.”
“Ty, it’ll be fine. Honest. If anything, having photographers documenting things will make people less likely to mess with me.”
“Daph, I’m not worried about someone in their right mind messing with you. When people are high or mentally ill—or both—they don’t think things through.”
“That’s a risk we take every day, though. The attention on me really doesn’t change anything. There may not even be any photographers tonight, and if there are, once they see that it’s just me working and Olivier is nowhere around, they’ll leave.”
Ty furrows his brow, about to answer me when Nina stops in the open doorway to his office.
“Daphne, your first volunteer just showed up.”
“Great, thanks.” I stand up and give Ty a confident nod. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”
With a stern look, he says, “Keep our police contacts notified of your location. If things don’t feel right, ask them to send someone to you. And stay out of the drug houses.”
“I always do. I promise, we’ll be safe. Enjoy your dinner with Aliyah, okay?”
“Okay. Text me when you guys get back here at the end of the night just to let me know how things went.”
“Will do, boss.”
I walk out to the lobby to find a middle-aged woman sitting in a folding chair.
“Hi, I’m Daphne Barrington,” I tell her, holding out my hand.
“I know you,” she says, her face lighting up as she shakes my hand. “Olidaph, right?”
“That’s me,” I say, smiling. “Or, half of it is me.”
“I’m Linda.”
“It’s great to meet you. Thank you so much for volunteering. We really need the help.”
“So you and…Oli? Is his name Oli? You went on a date?”
Fucking Twitter. There are photos of Olivier and I kissing on my front porch all over the place, which is not awesome since they show everyone where I live. There’s also one of us laughing as we eat our ice cream sundaes at the ice cream shop.
