The evening turns the August heat into something more sultry than suffocating, but I’m still burning with anticipation waiting outside on the sidewalk for Juliet.

I still can’t believe she said yes.

I can’t say it’s a familiar feeling, being in disbelief about a woman agreeing to come out with me, and I can’t deny that it’s exhilarating. On another level, it’s darkly intriguing. Juliet isn’t toying with me. She has genuine reservations about almost everything we’ve done together, which isn’t much, admittedly—but every single encounter with her has had a major impact. 

The minutes tick by. She said she’d be here at nine. She insisted on being dropped off at Anderson before anything else, and I saw in her eyes how torn she was about calling in to the Rose. If they give her any hassle, any at all, I’ll be the first to discreetly insist that they let this one occasion slide.

She could still decide not to show up.

Juliet is an enigma, and I’m dying to unravel some of the puzzle. She refused to exchange phone numbers, refused to let me send a driver to her place, and agreed to come on the condition that she could meet me on her own terms, using her own transportation. 

If she’s changed her mind and is at the Rose right now....

A yellow taxi glides up to the curb, and my heart surges in my chest. I can make out the silhouette of a woman’s hair fixed in a low bun at the nape of her neck as she leans forward to pay the fare, swiping her card in the machine, tucking it back into her purse. Then she pushes open the door and steps out.

The moment her heel hits the curb, I’m sure that it’s Juliet, and I move as quickly as I can to the cab, offering her my hand.

She looks amazing. 

Her eyes glitter up at me from the dark interior of the cab, and for once she doesn’t turn me down, putting her hand in mine and letting me help her out of the car.

I can hardly pick my jaw up from the ground.

She’s wearing black, like she was at the Rose, but this dress is somehow sexier, hugging her curves in an entirely different way. The dress she wore for work ended above her knees, wrapping around her thighs, but this one is floor-length with a long slit that gives me tantalizing peeks at the creamy flesh of her legs as she turns back, scanning the seat of the cab. “It’s good,” she says, and I close the door and tap the roof.

“I feel terrible.”

Juliet grins at me, like she’s already in on the joke. Maybe she is, for all I know. “And why’s that?”

“Because dinner isn’t enough for you in that dress. I should be taking you to an awards show. A movie premiere. Somewhere you can be seen on the red carpet.”

Juliet laughs, her red lips less vibrant than at the Rose, reminding me of the kind of expensive wine that glides so smoothly over your tongue that you can drink a whole bottle and never tire of it. “Nobody in the world is interested in seeing me on a red carpet.” Her eyes twinkle in the day’s fading light. “Except maybe you, Weston Grant.”

“I can’t be the only one. It’s impossible.” I offer her my arm, and she wraps her hand delicately around the crook of my elbow. Despite the fact that she kissed me with a ferocious passion this afternoon, my entire body thrills at her touch. I’m getting somewhere if she’s here and accepting any kind of help from me—even something as simple as my arm.

I lead her into the lobby, and we take the elevator to the penthouse restaurant. This is a Midtown gem that I try not to tell anyone about, because it’s the kind of atmosphere that’s completely spoiled by large crowds. As it stands, Skyline does business at a steady clip, and mostly with clientele like myself.

Juliet’s eyes light up when the waitress leads us through the space to our table. Everything is white, contrasting with the dark furnishings—white linen tablecloths, white runners on the floor—and all of it is meant to draw the eye outward, to the huge windows on the far side of the dining area that look out over Manhattan.

“I think you lied to me,” she says as soon as the hostess heads away from the table.

“I never have.”

“I’m underdressed for this restaurant.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “You’re kidding. Every eye in the place was on you when we were walking over here.”

She gives me a disbelieving look. “How do you know they weren’t looking at you?”

“Because all the men staring in our direction aren’t interested in another man in a suit.”

Juliet shrugs. “You never know.”

“I know.”

We keep up this low chatter until the menus have been taken away and the first glasses of wine have been poured, and then Juliet lifts her glass to her lips. The sight of her lips curling over the edge of the glass are so tantalizing that it nearly stops my heart. I want them back on mine. I want her body back in my arms. I will myself to stay in my seat, to relax, to not let on that if she showed the slightest interest, I’d whisk her out of here and claim her in the backseat of my Town Car. “So,” she says, putting the glass down carefully on the table. “Let’s talk terms.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s what’s on your mind?”

“What else would be?”

“I’m thinking of a delicious few moments on the sidewalk outside of Overbrook.”

Juliet blushes a little. “It can’t all be fun and games.”

“Can’t it?” I look deeply into her eyes, and the corners of her mouth turn upward into a smile.

She takes in a breath, her cleavage peeking out over the low neckline of her dress. “Not all the time, no.” Juliet leans in, as if she’s going to reveal a secret to me. I brace for it. “I’d love to get this…issue of payment out of the way.”

I groan. “Trust me when I say that I don’t need you to pay me back.”

Her face turns serious. “Trust me when I say that I need to do this. I can’t accept a gift…a gift like that. It’s too much.” Her hand is pressed tightly against the tablecloth.

I counter, partly on instinct and partly because I’m not willing to lose this intensity, this energy between us. Not right now. “Give me the evening,” I tell Juliet, barely stifling the urge to reach out and take her hand. “Give me the evening, and then you can decide if that’s what you need…or if it’s something else.”