SPORA’S IS BUSTLING. LOCATED ON the bluff overlooking the river, it’s the hottest restaurant in the city. I’ve been here once. It was the only time my parents visited Memphis, not really me. They were here for three days for a convention. We had dinner once.

The front is dark with clear lights twinkling in the front beneath a large, red lettered sign spelling out the name. My heels click against the sidewalk as I reach the door. A man in a suit opens it.

The lights overhead have an antique, industrial look and the bulbs cast a yellow glow over the dark wood inside. My stomach is in knots as I approach the reception desk. “I believe there’s a reservation for Landry.”

Her eyes widen. “Yes. Give me a moment.” She waves a man over from the bar lining the wall on the right. “Can you escort her to the balcony?”

“Follow me,” he says, leading me along a walkway at the front of the restaurant to a little elevator tucked on the other side. He pushes a button and the doors swing open. We enter, and as I’m struggling to not let my nerves get the best of me, they pop open again. We’re in another hallway with six different doorways spaced evenly apart. We walk to the first one to the right and he knocks gently. He waits a few seconds before pushing it open.

My palms are sweating as I prepare to see Lincoln. We’ve talked and texted over the last few days. It’s been light and funny, and I’ve found myself laughing more, smiling more, even when I’m not with him. It’s the Landry effect. I keep reminding myself this is for fun, for the off season, to keep it in perspective. He makes that seriously hard to do.

Giving myself a quick inspection, I’m confident in the dress I chose. A navy blue lacy overlay atop a silky fabric, the halter top shows off my toned arms, and the way the bottom hits mid-thigh will hopefully give him ideas.

Filling my lungs with precious air, I fight to stay calm. I almost cancelled this a hundred times since he left my office. I shouldn’t be here. It’s only going to lead to disappointment.

My breath catches in my throat as he comes into view.

Scratch that. It’s going to lead to an orgasm and he’s not even going to have to touch me.

He’s standing at the table, a tumbler of a clear liquid in his hand. Dressed in a pair of slim fit khaki pants, a deep brown leather belt winds around his trim waist. A black dress shirt, rolled up to the elbows and the top couple of buttons undone, and I want to devour him. Throw him on the ground and just go for it.

I wonder vaguely if the rooms are soundproof as he walks to me. It’s an unhurried movement, like he knows that every second I have to anticipate his hug or kiss on the cheek gets me one second closer to combusting. The door shuts as the waiter leaves. I force a swallow, my mouth dry and hot. The light catches on the face of his watch and just amplifies how much he looks like he walked off a movie set.

Dear God.

The glass isn’t in his hand anymore when he reaches me, and I have no idea where it went. All I can see are his arms reaching for me, and I hold my breath as he makes contact.

His right hand lands on the small of my back as he leans in and kisses me on the cheek. When he pulls back, both spots immediately feel cold.

“You look gorgeous,” he says. Taking a step back to see me better, I feel his gaze scorch a path from my eyes, down my neck, across my breasts, all the way to my feet. “Just gorgeous, Dani.”

I don’t even correct him. I can’t. I can’t find my voice.

This is the first time seeing him in something other than sweatpants or shorts. I might’ve thought I was prepared, but I’m not. He’s divine. Classy. Sophisticated. Yet, a little rogue.

He takes my hand, his palm wide and warm, and leads me to the table. Pulling out my chair like a gentleman, he waits for me to sit. Once I’m settled, he disappears for a moment before returning with a bouquet of white roses.

“Lincoln! They’re beautiful,” I say, taking the flowers from him. As I lean in to take a deep breath, I notice one pale pink rose hidden in the midst of the cream ones. I look at him. He’s smiling. “I’ll bite. Why is there one pink one?”

“Because there’s always one that stands out from the bunch, just like you.”

My jaw drops as I swoon. “Wow,” I laugh. “That’s good.”

His chuckle joins mine as he sits across from me. “It is, right? I can’t take credit for it. I called my sister, Sienna, and she offered it up.” His brows pull together. “I hope that doesn’t take away from the gesture.”

“It doesn’t,” I say, smelling the flowers again. “Thank you.”

A waitress comes in and sits the vase on a wet bar and takes our order. Once we have wine, we’re alone again.

“I was afraid you weren’t going to show,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

“You knew I’d come.”

“I know you’ll come if you want to.”

We exchange a smoldering look. He tugs at the collar of his shirt. “You really do look gorgeous, Dani. I wish now more than ever I would’ve picked you up and gotten the privilege of walking in with you on my arm.”

“You picking me up would’ve been pushing it,” I laugh. “One step at a time.”

“One step at a time,” he repeats. “How was your day? Anything interesting happen? Did the asshole doctor stop by?”

“No,” I giggle. “What did he ever do to you?”

His head cocks to the side. “He thinks he has a chance with you.”

“So do you,” I point out with a tease in my tone.

“Damn right I do,” he says with zero playfulness in his. “I deserve it.”

“You deserve it?” I ask. “Really, Landry? Explain to me how you deserve a chance with me.”

He leans in, his features looking sharper, more regal in the light. “I want to know everything about you. The way you feel under my hands as I’m buried inside you, but I also want to know what makes you tick. How to make you laugh. The reasons you stay awake at night. What makes you smile.”

How do I respond to that? My heart tugs as I have to deal with his out-and-out declaration of what he wants. This I didn’t even try to prepare for. If he weren’t so damn genuine, it would help. If only he could give me a glimpse into the athlete inside him, it would help. If he weren’t so fucking sexy, that would really, really help.

“If your sister told you to say all these things, she should really start a romance column,” I laugh, trying to avoid having to address his words specifically.

“Nah,” he grins. “She just helped on the flowers. I’m winging the rest of it, relying on the ol’ Landry charm.”

“It’s working for you.” I take a sip of my wine and notice he winces as he picks up his glass. “How does your shoulder feel?”

He sighs. “Honestly, it’s a little sore. I haven’t thrown a ball since the last one I threw that tore it, so it’s a little stiff.”

“Oh!” I exclaim. “We didn’t have to play catch. Now I feel bad!”

His laugh rolls over the table. “I can honestly say I haven’t had that much fun playing ball in a while.”

“I’ll feel terrible if it messes up your therapy.”

“It won’t.” He takes a long drink. “Did Rocky miss me today?”

I can’t help but laugh. “He did. He drew you a picture, but I forgot it on my desk. It’s of a bird and a pig, I think. But your Van Gogh reference was a little misleading.”

He grins. “I was online last night really late because I never sleep these days.”

“Thinking of me?” I say, batting my lashes.

“Some,” he winks. “I found a painting class across town on Saturday afternoons. Have you thought about doing that?”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My hand stills around the stem of the wine glass and I smile at him. “What made you think of that?”

“You said you liked painting. Or you did when you were younger,” he blushes, looking down. “Maybe that was stupid.”

“That’s not stupid at all,” I whisper, my voice full of emotion. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but also like he’s embarrassed. I reach out and place my hand on top of his. The contact brings his gaze to mine.

“Thank you,” I tell him, hoping my earnestness says what I’m trying to say.

“For what?”

“For listening to me.”

He laughs, lacing our fingers together. We both look at our hands on the table, moving them around in the candlelight. His palm envelops mine, the roughness of his in contrast to the softness of mine. He brings them together and kisses them.

“You know, since I got hurt, I’ve struggled,” he says, clearing his throat and sitting our hands on the table again. “I’ve been a little lost. I mean, I play baseball. It’s what I do. Or what I’ve always done,” he says, his voice distant for a split second. “I was really having a hard time. But since I got off that elevator and chased you to your office, things haven’t seemed so bad.”

“You have to do what you can for your shoulder and let it be,” I say. But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize that’s not what he meant.

“Life hasn’t seemed so bad,” he clarifies. “Not that it seemed bad before, but the entire thing was getting old. The parties. The trips. All of it,” he says, his cheeks blushing a little.

“You mean the naked pictures?”

He bursts out laughing. “Those too. I shut my ‘baseball phone’ off, as a matter of fact. But it was like cutting off a part of me and I didn’t know how to fill my time.”

“So you’ve filled it with what?”

“Things,” he grins. “Ideas. Thoughts.”

The waitress comes in again and sets a plate of food in front of each of us, refills our glasses, and disappears.

The moonlight shines behind Lincoln, almost illuminating him. A cool breeze trickles in through the open glass doors, yet we’re not cold. I’m not sure if it’s from the excitement of being with him or if there’s a heater somewhere. Either way, it’s so comfortable, so cozy tucked in this little room that I don’t want to leave. I just want to sit here and stare at this handsome man.

He slices through his steak, spearing a piece. “Want to try it?”

I don’t really want to, but I’m not turning down the opportunity for him to feed me. “Sure,” I say, opening my mouth a touch and leaning forward. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the fork extends over the candles in the center.

My lips wrap around the silverware, my eyes focused on his. His pupils dilate as I pull back slowly, running my tongue along the bottom of my lip.

“Keep it up,” he warns, resting his fork on the side of his plate.

“And what?”

“And we will jump to dessert right here, right now.”

The authority in his tone goes right to the apex of my thighs. I can feel my muscles pull together, my panties dampening. “Promise?”

He pulls his lip between his teeth, chuckling mischievously. “Careful what you wish for, babe.”

“I’m pretty certain I know exactly what I’m wishing for,” I say, taunting him. “It involves your tongue running up my—”

“Stop,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Even if we leave now, it’ll take ten minutes to deal with the check, and I’m going to need to get you out of here in way less than that.”

Smiling, I spear a tomato and bring it to my lips. “I’d call for the check now then.”

“Damn you, woman,” he says, jumping to his feet. The door opens and shuts behind me, and for the first time since walking in this room, I take a long, deep breath.

I both know what’s coming and have no idea what’s coming. Where will we go? What will he do? All I know is that I want the answers to both those questions. And if it fucks me in the long run, so be it. I just need fucked right now.

The sound of the door opening rolls through the room and his hands are on my shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“You paid that fast?”

“Fuck yeah, I did. Want to follow me to my house or just ride with me?”

Getting to my feet and grabbing the vase, I look at the most dazzling man I’ve ever seen. “I’ll be riding enough later. I’ll follow you.”