Halfway through the appetizers, I realized that the evening would need more than one bottle of wine.

I was also getting a headache from rolling my eyes. Ash noticed, a smirk curving his lips each time I lifted my gaze to the tintype ceiling in the restaurant.

“Ooooh, it’s sooo funny that my name is Ashleigh, too!”

Ash gave his date a tight smile. “I’m just Ash. It’s not short for anything. My parents are arborists. I have a sister named Willow.”

He was so deadpan that I wasn’t sure if it was a joke. I smiled, nonetheless. It was becoming a reflex around him, like he held little strings attached to the corners of my mouth.

Ashleigh batted her eyelashes and wrapped her fingers around his arm. I could almost see the question going through her mind: what is an arborist? Then she just giggled.

She giggled a lot. The stereotypical cute blonde; she wore a tight black dress, ridiculously high heels, and seemed to be tanned all over. The chandelier earrings she wore kept getting caught in her flat-ironed hair.

“So what do you do, Ashleigh?” my date asked. Stephen was tall, handsome, and about as rigid and interesting as a cardboard box. Actually, a box was more versatile. Rougher around the edges.

“I work in PR,” she said.

There’s a shocker. She had “marketing girl” written all over her. She was the kind of girl that probably worked as a “brand ambassador” for some alcoholic beverage company in college. That was, of course, assuming she’d gone to college.

Stephen sent me a disapproving look as I refilled my wine glass. What the hell? When he turned his attention back to Ashleigh, I stuck my tongue out at him behind his back. He wasn’t my father.

Ash saw my scrunched up face and snickered into his hand. I tried to kick him under the table, but my foot collided with the steel leg of his chair.

When our main courses arrived, I realized that our choices said a lot about us. Ash had ordered a steak with Caesar salad. His date asked for the same dish, only without the steak. Or the salad dressing. Or the croutons or bacon bits. Stephen was mindfully enjoying some sous vide chicken thing, and I got some pasta loaded up with roasted vegetables and goat cheese.

So, Ashleigh was one steak short of a steak dinner, and Stephen liked things with the oxygen sucked out and sitting in tepid water.

Without thinking, I twirled some of my pasta up and put it on the side of Ash’s plate for him to try. He cut off a piece of his steak and gave it to me. We’d gotten into the habit of sharing a bit of our lunches. I didn’t realize how weird it seemed until our dates gave us matching puzzled looks.

“I don’t eat red meat anymore,” Stephen pointed out. “Too many growth hormones and chemicals in it these days.”

I stared at his chicken. Unless the restaurant was raising them in the back themselves, he was out of luck. Most commercial chicken farms weren’t exactly teaching their birds yoga before tucking them into bed with an organic cotton blanket and a bedtime story.

Shaking my head, I tried Ash’s steak. It was perfectly done and absolutely delicious; and I was happy to tell him so. His smile made its way down my stomach as tastily as the steak. He liked my pasta, too, so it was all good.

If it were just the two of us having dinner, it might have been the perfect date. But it wasn’t just us. Ashleigh’s laugh interrupted the thoughtful look suspended between Ash and myself.

As I sipped my wine, the frown on Stephen’s face deepened.

“You know that’s not sacramental, right?” he reminded me.

“What?”

“It’s not the wine you’re used to at church.”

I gave Ash a hard look as he caught a laugh with his fist. What the hell had he put on my profile, anyhow? That I was a former nun or something?

“Wine makes me do crazy things,” Ashleigh confessed with another giggle.

Ash emptied the bottle into her glass.

Now it was my turn to frown.

So did Stephen. I was guessing he did that a lot, since he seemed to have pretty permanent grooves between his eyebrows for a man around thirty.

The rest of the meal passed in an array of awkward chitchat. Honestly, it was painful. My food was delicious, but I kept getting distracted by Ashleigh leaning in close to Ash and whispering things in his ear. It was a little creepy, and a lot rude.

I stabbed at the roasted red peppers in my pasta, irritated that anyone thought that I would be interested in the human equivalent of a Sudoku desk calendar. At one point, I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth when I heard Ashleigh whisper “anal” in his ear.

His dark eyebrows lifted as he met my incredulous gaze. Then he tilted his head toward his date, as if silently saying, “This is what you picked for me?”

I shook my head, wanting to remind him that Rob had picked the torture candidates. And I’d be speaking with him about it on Monday; that was for sure. I couldn’t tell if he picked the worst possible people on purpose, or if they were just random matches. All of a sudden I was dying to see the profile that Ash had set up for me.

At the end of the meal, Stephen said that he’d buy my dinner but not my wine. When I gaped at him, Ash simply handed the waiter his card and said the whole thing was a corporate expense.

There was no drama outside the restaurant. Stephen gave me his card—his card, like it was 1995 or something. Ashleigh teetered in her heels and clung to Ash, but the added height made it easier to murmur something in his ear again.

His eyebrows lifted. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what she’d whispered. My stomach flipped at the thought that he could hook up with her. No, I wasn’t jealous. I was just… disappointed in him. Not jealous at all.

He smiled apologetically at Ashleigh. “Not tonight, sorry. I need to take Lizzie home. After all that wine…” He made a gesture that indicated I needed a chaperone.

Ass. But my indignation was laced with relief.

My glare went unnoticed as they traded numbers. Stephen had left, and was already striding away, half a block ahead without looking back. I stood there, my pashmina pulled tight around me, my arms crossed over my chest, as I waited. After Ash got a cab for his date, he turned back to me.

“That was fun,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I snorted and began heading down the sidewalk the same way that Stephen had gone. Ash caught up easily, his sudden appearance beside me making me stumble.

“Whoa there!” He wrapped his arm around my waist to steady me.

“I’m not drunk!”

“Of course you’re not.” He moved us over to the curb and lifted an arm to hail a cab. I was still protesting as he scooted into the back seat after me.

“Anyone would have needed alcohol to get through that,” I said defensively.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Ashleigh seems…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say.

He snorted. “Yeah, so does Stephen.”

I sighed, thankful for the evening to be over. Well, not quite over. Ash was taking me home, as he’d promised. And suddenly it seemed like a very, very long ride.

We sat in silence the rest of the way to my apartment, the air between us swollen with unsaid words. No matter which way I sat or crossed my legs, my thigh peeked through the slit on my skirt. I felt Ash’s gaze on it like a laser, hot and direct.

Every breath I took and every movement I made seemed magnified. It was all more.

The brush of my arm against his leather jacket.

His knee next to mine.

The sway of our bodies when we rounded a corner.

When he finally spoke, Ash’s voice was low. “She offered me a blowjob,” he said casually.

My whole body twisted sharply toward him. My mouth fell open in shock.

“Yeah, like that,” he said, his index finger going to my lower lip. His eyes were dark and dancing with mischief.

My mouth closed, my lips pressing together tightly. He smoothed his finger across my lip before dropping his hand to his lap.

Unbelievable. But my mouth still tingled from his touch.

When we arrived at my apartment, I hastily tapped my credit card to the reader while Ash got out and held the door open for me. I nearly flashed him as I tried to wriggle across the seat to get out, but he said nothing.

“Why don’t we get down some notes now?” he suggested. “While it’s still fresh in our minds.”

Before I could stop her, my inner bitch showed up. “It’s okay, you got me home. You can go meet up with Ashleigh for that…”

“Can you say it? Can you say the word, Lizzie?”

My eyebrow arched as I looked at him squarely and formed the sounds: “Blow job.” I exaggerated the pursing of my lips as I said it again. “Blooow jooob!”

A little growl escaped him, making me back up a step.

I waved him off, ignoring the smarting sensation in my chest. “You can go, you know.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Fine,” I snapped. “Then I’m going upstairs.”

“Me, too.”

Why? What were we doing? Lost in my thoughts, I merely nodded and led him up to my apartment. He took off his jacket while I toed off my shoes. Relief made me sigh out loud. I was not used to wearing heels.

I had a studio big enough for a bed and a couch, with a folding screen between the two “rooms”. Thankfully, the contents of my tiny closet, currently spread out on the bed, were hidden from view. I didn’t need to publicize how long it took me to decide on an outfit. That would have given the date more meaning, right? It was just a friendly blind date between co-workers, that’s all.

My co-worker, who sat on my couch, looked very friendly.

I’d never realized what a small couch it was, until Ash sat on it. When he spread his arms out over the back, he spanned the whole thing.

“Do you want some coffee or something?”

“Not really.” He dropped his arms to his lap and looked at me expectantly.

My laptop sat on the coffee table in front of him, ready for us to get to work, but I was completely distracted by the man sitting before me.

On his skin peeking out from under his shirt.

On his broad hands casually sweeping up and down his thighs.

On the way his gaze roamed around my apartment, taking in every picture on the walls, and on the way his lips moved as he read the titles on my bookshelves.

Ash Garrison was an interesting man, and I hated that he thought I was boring and prudish. I wanted to be exciting and daring, exotic and whimsical. Someone like… Ashleigh? Ugh, no thanks.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be me.

I hitched my hip up onto the side of the couch, leaning over him slightly. My hair fell in front of me, until I tucked it back behind my ear. “Why did you think I’d be interested in someone like Stephen?” Was that hurt in my voice? Disappointment?

He raised his hands, smirking. “Hey, I didn’t pick him out. Remember? Rob did. And I could ask you the same thing about Ashleigh.”

“Do you really have a sister named Willow?”

“No,” he chuckled. “My parents were yuppies, not hippies.”

“At least she was ready to put out for you,” I pointed out petulantly. Jealously? “My date thought I’d escaped from a convent.”

Ash tilted his head back as he laughed.

I didn’t find it quite as funny. Once more my online reputation was being mocked as though it were really me and my real personality. It didn’t seem fair, but then again what other impression had I given him? Had I become Miss Behave?

“Is that really what you think of me?” My voice was small.

He quieted as I toyed with the fabric of the couch. In a swift movement, he rose and faced me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me carefully.

“No, Lizzie. No, I don’t. I just—” He paused, looking for the words. “I hope you’re not missing out on anything as Miss Behave.”

“Like what?” I asked him, confused. “A job at the news desk? Because I know—”

“No, like… misbehaving.”

My chin went up. “I can do that.”

“No, misbehaving.”

The simple word was loaded with innuendo. With a dare, a threat, a promise.

I slipped off the edge of the sofa and stood before him, only a few inches between us. I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eye. My hand went to his chest, feeling his muscles under the fabric of his shirt.

Before my courage could desert me, I promised him, “I can do that.”

His gaze narrowed in on my lips. “Prove it.”