It’s the way he stands up that gets me. Then it’s the rush in his step.

Then it’s the way he waits to retrieve his phone until he’s turning into the hallway.

But most of all—it’s the fact that what he retrieves is an old, thick, flip phone.

He’d used an iPhone when getting my number in the club, hadn’t he? Yes, most definitely. So what was that?

His face filled with so much alarm when he looked down at his phone that it hardly looked like his own.

I’ve always been smart enough, but my gut instincts are second to none. They’re the reason for my success in law enforcement. I’m no sharp shooter, not particularly fast, not big, not strong. But when I have a feeling deep in my gut, I’m never wrong.

And right now, I have a feeling.

Part of me wants to bury it, sit back, and wait for Noah to come back and immerse me in his charm. What a wonderful feeling it is to be treated as though someone else has my interests in mind for once.

But I can’t do that. And now his absence is bothering me more and more by the second.

Maybe I should pretend to use the restroom. I’ll walk past him and hopefully catch a snippet of conversation. But he’d know what I was doing right away. And not only that, but I’d look ridiculously childish.

I don’t know what I’m doing right to make someone like Noah interested in someone like me, but eavesdropping on his call would probably put a real quick end to that.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Antonio nearing our table again, which is oddly comforting. He’s been a tremendous server. This entire restaurant is suited for guests with an income that’s several tiers above my own, but Antonio is as personable as they come.

“Your man, where did he go?” he asks me.

I humor him with a laugh. “He’s in the restroom.”

Antonio smiles. “Shall we surprise him with another bottle?” His eyebrows do a little dance.

“Ha, I better not,” I say before really considering it. That was expensive wine, but that’s not what makes me decline the offer.

“Some dessert, perhaps?” Antonio asks.

The menu is folded open in front of me, but I haven’t looked at it since Noah left. And with my gut churning, dessert doesn’t sound all that appealing anymore.

“I think we’re okay, thank you though.” I hand over the menu. “In fact, you can probably bring the bill.”

Whether Antonio picks up on my pessimism or not, he doesn’t let it detract from his charm. He assures me he’ll be right back. And as he turns, Noah emerges from around the corner. His face softens into a smile when he finds my gaze and I feel my stomach lurch. I can’t help it and I definitely can’t ignore it.

“I’m glad to see you didn’t rush out on me again,” he says as he takes his seat. “I was getting a little worried back there.”

“Still here,” I say with forced enthusiasm. “Everything okay?”

Something flashes across his dark green eyes, though I can’t tell if it’s in response to my question.

“Yeah, just a call from work,” he says in a sigh. “I feel bad that it interrupted us, though. I’m really sorry.”

“Not a problem,” I say. It’s time for me to chill out. If anyone should understand work emergencies, it’s me. The number of times I’ve interrupted something to respond to a murder scene is appalling. I have a habit of allowing my work to reach me whenever and wherever I am. So I have no room to judge.

For the first time I realize that I don’t even know what Noah does for work. And I guess he hasn’t asked me either, but I’ve been so busy talking about myself all night that it hasn’t even occurred to me.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t know if I ever asked what it is you do for work? You’ve had me talking about myself so much.” It takes a concerted effort to sound casual and not suspicious.

“Nothing wrong with that.” He smiles. “Besides, I don’t have a very exciting answer for you. I run a gallery.”

“A gallery? Like for art?”

Noah’s laugh makes me realize how bluntly surprised I sounded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. That’s just… not what I would’ve guessed.”

He shrugs. “I don’t blame you. But yup, I run a gallery. For art.” He smirks at me. “Photography, actually.”

I’m almost at a total loss for words, and I don’t really know why. Maybe because Noah has a sculpted physique, knocked out a dude twice his size, and came dressed in a silk dress shirt instead of a turtleneck.

Though I suppose I can see it. I knew he was more sophisticated than he let on.

“That’s really cool,” I finally say. “Where is it at?”

“Downtown. A few blocks from the water.”

“Oh wow, what a great piece of real estate. I’m sure I’ve seen it, I love that area.”

“Eh, maybe,” he says. “It’s still only a year or so old.”

“Well I’ll have to stop by! Is photography your passion or is the gallery just something you manage?”

“No, I love it. It’s—” Noah falters as Antonio delivers the bill. “Hold up, I think we’re going to grab some dessert.”

Antonio spins around. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. Let me bring you another menu.”

“That’s okay, Antonio,” I chime in. “I’m too full.”

I’m avoiding Noah’s gaze, but I can feel it on me. Antonio’s eyes dart back and forth. “Are you sure?” he asks.

I smile and nod at him. “Thank you anyway.”

“Yes, thank you anyway,” Noah echoes. He’s still looking at me when Antonio leaves. “Was everything okay with your meal?” he asks.

“It was great,” I say. And it was. My lobster ravioli was thick and zesty without being too rich. It was the perfect blend.

“Good,” Noah says, but the dejected tone of his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s like a pinch to my skin.

Guilt washes over me as I watch him sign the bill. I’ve done it again.

Noah has a guarded exterior, but once it cracks and gives way he overflows with humor and charisma. And for whatever reason, he’s cracked for me. And the more he opens up the more I’m drawn to every thing about him. Everything from his straight smile to his subtle mannerisms. There’s something utterly magnetic about him.

And here I am, sitting in the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been in because Noah wanted to treat me to dinner. And I went and screwed it up. Per usual.

Antonio is quick to collect the bill and return with the customer copy. “Thank you sincerely for dining with us tonight,” he says. “I hope you enjoyed your meal.”

Noah and I thank Antonio, who bows his head and wishes us a pleasant evening. I push back in my chair and go to stand soon after he leaves. The feeling in my gut hasn’t subsided whatsoever, no matter how hard I try to bury it.

Noah follows, reluctantly, and I can’t help but steal a glance at the amount he leaves as a tip. Which is enormous.

I do my best to look relaxed as we wait for the chauffeur, but Noah’s demeanor suggests that I’m doing a poor job. He hasn’t gone silent, but he’s far from the captivating gentleman that led me into the restaurant. And there’s no doubt that I’m at fault, at least partially, but I can’t help but wonder if that phone call also dulled his mood.

It may have been work related, but who uses an additional old flip phone just to manage a gallery?

“Well?” Noah says once we’re back in his car. “How was your dinner?”

“Incredible.”

He chuckles. “Besides that. I want to know what you actually think.”

“Sorry, I don’t think I have enough adjectives to describe it. I’ve never eaten anywhere remotely that nice before.”

“Really?”

“Never,” I repeat. “Thank you, honestly. That was really exquisite.”

“You’re welcome, Soph.” He smiles at me and I’m tempted to set my hand on top of his, but I resist. It’s unfair of me to waver between buzz kill and flirtatious, and I’ve already made my decision. My gut is going to keep me from having the night with Noah that I’d hoped for.

But I can’t take the risk.

I don’t speak much more than to prevent the silence from engulfing us. And Noah seems to be doing the same. I know he’s picked up on my apprehension, but I’ve also given up trying to hide it.

“What do you think about some dessert?” he asks before signaling to turn down my street. “We kind of missed out back there, but I’ve got a pretty impressive selection of my own.”

“That’s okay.” My reply sounds more haste than I intended. “I’m really stuffed,” I add as if to soften the blow.

“Are you sure? I only live about a few more minutes up the road.”

This time I refrain from answering too quickly, and I can feel his Audi gradually slowing as I hesitate.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I finally say. My chest tightens and my toes clench in my heels. I should quit while I can, but the guilt is aching me. “I hope you know it’s not you.” I hate the words as they leave my lips, but I turn to look at him all the same. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

I sound pathetic, I know I do, but there’s nothing I can say to explain myself.

“It’s okay,” he says in a voice stiff with disappointment. The next thirty seconds pass in silence until finally we stop outside my door.

The feeling hasn’t left my gut, but there’s also a warm energy in my belly. There’s nothing I want more than to reach behind his neck and pull his lips to mine while I clench his thick hair in my fists.

Noah turns and grins politely at me. The weight of his eyes has me anchored in place. I’ve already ruined enough—he deserves this.

We both do.

I close my eyes and lean forward. My body floods with exhilaration when I feel the soft pressure of his lips against mine.

I can smell his cologne in the air between us. His hand rests on my thigh and I grasp his neck, my fingers drifting down until they catch on his collar. I pinch it in my hand and linger between his lips.

Then, without thinking, I pull myself away and step out of the car.

There’s a chill in the night air and his car remains idled as I walk toward my house, but I can’t bring myself to look back, even as I step inside.