To say that dinner with Reed was something out of a movie is probably an understatement. He was a gentleman the entire night. Pulling my chair out for me, suggesting a bottle of wine, discussing which steak on the menu was the best, sliding in a joke about how he’s not on the menu tonight unless I ask for the special.

By my second glass of wine, the tension and anxiety that had been laced through my body had dissolved like salt in water. Sitting at a candlelit table tucked into the far corner of a restaurant I’d never be able to afford at this point in my life, Reed wooed me. It wasn’t any one thing in particular. There were no grand declarations or heartfelt moments. It was just Reed being Reed.

We talked about anything and everything and I never once felt like I had to temper my responses for fear of judgment. He told me stories about him growing up—some of which involved Pete—and I confessed to some of my more embarrassing escapades as a teenager. I explained how much I enjoyed working with Chelsea and Hannah and about my job back in Los Angeles and he explained some of the inner workings of some of his cases.

By the time we stood up, I had to find my footing. With a full stomach and a contagious smile, I allowed Reed to take me by the hand and guide me to the coat room.

“Thank you,” I murmur, sliding my arms into my coat.

“I’m the one who needs to say thank you. I’m glad you took that leap.”

“Me too,” I admit. I put myself out there and I couldn’t know for sure if it was the alcohol talking or whether Reed had cast some sort of spell on me.

---

I circled around, waiting for him to put on his own jacket. He hands the coat check some money and nods toward the door.

Leaving the warm atmosphere of the restaurant behind, I walk ahead, and he catches up, his hand molded to my hip rather than its usual spot on my lower back. His touch has my nipples tightening inside my bra.

Until tonight, I’ve kept my feelings for Reed in an iron box. Locked. Under my bed. Surrounded by other boxes I haven’t wanted to dust off and examine the contents of. The fear that I’ll turn into the old, naive Victoria Clarke before I lost myself to being Mrs. Victoria Keebler had waged a war inside and won.

It’s been two years since the divorce and it took an entire year before I felt like the Clarke surname fit me again. My intuition assures me that Reed will handle me with gentle hands, but my intuition misjudged once before and although I received the best gift from my worst decision, I am still the one who picked Pete to share my life with.

All of that and yet here I sit, not wanting him to take me home. Wanting a minute, even a second more with him...to see the crinkle around his eyes when he laughs at something I said, to have his gaze land on me like there’s nothing he’d like more than to ravish me at that very moment.

My mind is so consumed with this internal debate I hadn’t noticed we were pulling away from the restaurant. He’s turned the radio on at a low volume and the silence between us isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable. His fingers tap along the stick shift, the lyrics low as they tumble out of his mouth.

For a moment, my mind flashes forward to what it would be like if we actually worked out. On our way home from a date night to find Jade and a set of twins still challenging my mom about their bedtime. Reed swooping them up in his arms when we walk in. Me sitting down on the sofa and talking with my mom about the night. Reed bringing us tea, snuggling up beside me on the couch as he fawns over my mother and me.

I smile thinking about what could be in the fantasy I’ve created for the two of us.

“You’re quiet,” he says, his hand finding my bare knee.

I swivel in my seat to face him. “I feel like all we’ve done tonight is talk about me. Tell me about your family.”

His body tenses for a moment. “I’ve told you about them. They have expectations I don’t quite live up to.”

“Does being an ADA pay well?” I can’t help but glance at the logo on the steering wheel.

He glances at me with a smirk on his lips. “Not enough for this, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well, you wear three-piece suits, which by the way I still insist a personal shopper picks out for you, you drive this ridiculously priced car”—I pat the dash—“and I imagine you live in a nice condo with a parking space that costs more every year than my entire college education did.”

He chuckles. “You know I’m a rich kid.”

He says it as casually as you’d tell someone you love pizza.

“Am I to assume you have a trust fund?”

He glances at me again and that smirk hasn’t left his face. “You assume correct.”

I move to look straight ahead out the windshield, leaning back in the seat. This would be another difference between Pete and Reed. Pete’s parents though rich, didn’t save. They spent and continue to spend what his father makes. They were nouveau riche and my guess is that Reed comes from old money. Pete knew if he wanted to continue his lifestyle, he had to earn the money himself. Reed went the opposite route.

“From your grandfather?” I ask.

“Grandmother.” He winks. “My mom’s mom.”

“So, your dad…”

“My dad is a successful businessman. A CEO of a major food industry company, but my mom’s family money goes back generations.”

“And your dad doesn’t like you being an ADA either?”

He huffs. “Right? I guess money can change people. Here’s a guy who worked his way up through the ranks and he thinks his money was wasted on my degree.”

My mom would have been ecstatic if I’d become a lawyer.

“I wasn’t brought up to do what makes me happy, Victoria. I was brought up to do something that had a lot of money and prestige attached to it so that my parents could brag.”

“But being an assistant district attorney is a noble profession,” I insist.

“Don’t feel bad for me, I’ve had a good life. So, what if my parents don’t like what I do? I learned a long time ago, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“You sound so sure. I mean parent’s expectations have the capability of really messing up a kid.”

He nods before checking his blind spot to change lanes. “Believe me, I think my dad hates the fact that I started mentoring at Big Brothers because that’s when I found out the real world was far from the reality inside the tiny enclave I’d been raised in. On one hand, I was grateful for what I had growing up, but on the other hand, I wanted to help those who didn’t have the same opportunities.”

“You’re like a noble prince.” The sentence falls from my lips without filtering through my brain.

Shit. My filter must be soaked in red wine at the moment.

The car rolls to a stop and for a moment, I think he didn’t hear me. His gaze is set forward, his hand wrapped around the gear shift, feet poised over the two pedals. Then he glances over, and his tongue is sliding over his bottom lip. “I love that you see me that way, but I don’t want to set some unrealistic expectations for you. I have plenty of faults.”

“I need details.”

“Well, I don’t cook. I order in every night. If you went to my condo right now, you’d only find a gallon of chocolate milk and a million takeout containers and condiments in my fridge. A cleaning lady comes twice a week because I am in no way domesticated. She washes my clothes, takes care of my dry cleaning, cleans the place. I stay up insanely late every night, usually crashing on my couch with a case file in my hand.”

I smile, thankful that he’s not perfect. Because perfect is an illusion. And I want the real thing.

“Sounds like you’re a typical bachelor to me.”

He shrugs, the light turns green and he accelerates back onto the highway.

“If I continue living this way, I’ll be single forever.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He chuckles. “I’m kind of hoping I might be off the market soon.” He glances over at me and winks.

I melt into the expensive leather seat. If it wasn’t for my sweet Jade, I’d wish I would’ve met him before Pete. But taking Pete out of the equation takes my Jade away and there’s no way I’d be me without her.

“Can I ask you a question?” His eyes focus back on the road.

“Sure.”

“I know the rules of dating state not to talk about ex’s, but what happened with Pete? If you don’t want to answer just tell me to mind my own business.”

My gaze veers out the window. “No, it’s okay.” I pause for a second. “I think Pete just wasn’t ready to settle down. I think he thought he wanted it. His parents wanted it. I guess like your parents, they wanted to brag about him. But it just wasn’t for him. He’s a decent dad, I will say that. I mean he could be more involved and make more of an effort, yes. But when he does spend time with Jade, she’s his whole world. If he had the time to see her a few times a week, then he probably would’ve fought for me to stay in L.A. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if that were the case.”

“Why did you come back?”

“My mom.” I sigh. “She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and I’m all she’s got. Me and Jade. And I wanted to be here to help her if and when her disease progresses.”

He reaches over, entwines his hand with mine, and says, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” I shoot him a gentle smile, and when he pulls his hand away, I realize I’m not as much of a fan of a stick shift as I thought. “She has good days and bad. She’s still able to help me with Jade and at this point, she probably helps me more than we help her, but I realized when she made that call that I didn’t want to be miles away from her. I needed to be here.”

Reed nods. “Pete understood?”

I tip my head side to side. “For the most part.”

“I’m glad.” He winks suggesting he’s happy because if I hadn’t come back here, he wouldn’t have met me again.

“Pete’s not a horrible guy, just not a good husband.”

I give him the clean version because if I gave him the dirty version, he’d probably drop me off at the curb and skid away. Nights when I went driving around looking for him, calling his phone relentlessly, finding numbers in his pocket, smelling perfume on his clothes. I shake off the memories.

“I like to think I’ll make an excellent husband.” Reed laughs, and I know he’s joking, but he would make a wonderful husband to some lucky girl. I know he would.

He pulls up to the curb of my mom’s house, parking and turning off the car.

“I had a great time,” I say.

He shoots me his winning smile. “Me too. I hope you’ll agree to another date?” His eyebrows raise.

“I think I can do that.” I shift to face him, my voice lower and more sensual than usual.

He leans forward, his hand cupping my cheek. “I’m trying to go slow here, Victoria, but I really like you. Come to my condo this weekend for dinner?”

“Are we having chocolate milk?”

A smile tips his lips, but his eyes remain laser-focused on mine. “I’ll hire a chef.”

I shake my head. The scent of the mint he took when leaving the restaurant reaches me as he leans even closer. “If you want me to come over, you make the dinner.”

“I’ll make dinner if you agree to kiss me right now.”

“You can kiss me if you make dinner and dessert.”

Our words are mere whispers as we inch closer and closer. My breaths grow shallow. I want nothing more than to feel his lips on mine.

“I’ll make dinner and buy dessert if I can kiss you.”

“Hmm…”

“Fuck it, a tube of cookie dough it is.” His mouth slams to mine, not waiting for me to accept his offer.

His hand slides along my cheek, down and around to my neck. When he runs his tongue along the seam of my lips, I open for him and his tongue slides in, searching for my own. His lips soften, and his tongue slows. My body feels weightless, like I’m soaring with the clouds as we find our rhythm.

A moan escapes me, and he groans like he’s tortured, his lips applying more pressure. Never have I felt such uncontrollable desire from a kiss. It’s apparent that he’s trying to maintain some composure, and I wonder if we were somewhere and he could strip me down, would he? If this was our tenth date instead of our first, would he pull me over his lap? Would I let him?

Our kiss slows, and my frenzied mind stops moving in overdrive, analyzing his kiss.

His hand stays where it is on my bare neck, and he rests his forehead on mine. “You have no idea how badly I want you right now.” He’s breathing heavily, his chest moving up and down as he works to control himself.

“I think I do.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad it’s mutual.”

He undoes my seatbelt then he eases back, grabbing the keys and exiting the car.

“Holy shit,” I mumble to myself.

The door opens, and his hand is outstretched in an offer to help me out of the car. I accept it, step out and he links his hand with mine, keeping them that way as we make our way to the front door. It’s late, so Jade should be fast asleep.

The porch light above my head reminds me of my high school days when a boy would hesitantly kiss me goodnight and I feared my dad would open the door the entire time.

“Thank you again, I had a great time.”

He steps forward. “So next Saturday then?”

“Can we do Friday?” I always spend Sundays with Jade.

“Friday it is. What’s your preference in cookie dough?” He winks.

I jab him in the chest with my finger. “I’m not joking, Mr. Warner, you cook the meal.”

He nods a few times. “Then get in the mood for pizza because more than likely whatever I come up with will be inedible.”

“Thanks for a great night.” He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer so we’re chest to chest.

I wrap my arms around his neck, enjoying the feeling of my fingers running through his short hair and the press of his hard body to mine.

“Drive home safely,” I whisper.

He dips his head and I close my eyes in anticipation of the taste of peppermint in my mouth. Our lips collide again, and we’re more frantic than we were in the car. Hungrier. Needier. He slides his hands down my back until they close around the globes of my ass. A whimper escapes me, and I press farther into him, fisting his longer strands of hair so he can’t get away.

My back hits the brick of the house and the rigid bulge in his pants pushes into my stomach. I want to lift my legs and wrap them around him so bad it hurts, but I’m outside my mom’s house with a porch light broadcasting everything Reed and I are doing to the neighbors.

My hand falls between us and I push him away lightly. “Neighbors,” I say, breathless and panting.

“Right.” He steps back and grips the back of his neck, his face strained. “I better go before I beg.”

I giggle and his gaze dips to my lips again.

“Good night, Victoria.”

“Night.”

He walks down the cement path to his car, stopping right before he slides in, nodding and signaling for me to go inside.

I wave and dig my keys out, my hands shaking as I try to unlock the door. I step into the house and collapse on the couch in the living room.

“That good, huh?” my mom asks.