I have something to ask you, and I know it’s going to come off as a complete cliché.”

A complete cliché? That should be good news surely. I try to look casual even though my heart won’t stop racing like an out of control train. God, those eyes of his! I could drown in them. How many women has he pulled under his spell with those eyes?

“I love nothing more than a good cliché in the morning,” I chuckle. What a lame joke. Why do I have to be so lame? I guess he makes me nervous in a funny, fluttery way. I don’t know how to be with him and I want to be special, show him the best version of me, but I wasn’t any special way last night, and look where we are now.

Look where I am now.

Lame or not, he strokes my cheek and smiles. Good, I wasn’t too lame if he’s still got that look in his eyes. “Then this is going to thrill the hell out of you, because it’s about as cliché a question as they come. What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

And just like that, the speeding train in my chest comes to a sudden halt. That’s what he considers a cliché. No one’s ever said that to me. In my whole life. When it comes to important dates, Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve are pretty much the big dogs. The ultimate. Nobody’s ever asked me out on New Year’s before—which is saying something, since I only became single for the first time in three years yesterday.

“New Year’s Eve?” I stall as my brain goes into overdrive. Tonight? Jesus, he wants to go out with me tonight? Really? Me? Big ole me?

I hadn’t even given any thought to what I was going to do tonight. I probably would’ve picked up a ton of sushi and a bottle of wine. Hell, who am I kidding, two bottles of wine and some chocolate to top it off. Then I would’ve watched the ball drop on TV all by my lonesome. Maybe cried some too. It never even crossed my mind something like this would have happened. A man would want me to be part of his night or start off the new year with him.

How the hell did I ever think James was worth my time?

He plays with a strand of my hair, twirling it absently between his fingers. “Yes. You know, it always falls on the thirty-first of December, the last day of the year. Which happens to be tonight. People sometimes go out at night to usher in the new year. They have fun. They might even drink a little too much champagne. Maybe much too much.”

“You speak like a man who’s experienced this firsthand.”

“Maybe I have. In my younger, foolish days.” We share a laugh, mine is a nervous giggle because I still can’t believe he’s actually asking me. Then he becomes serious. “So? What do you say? Come with me to a party tonight.”

“A fancy party, huh?” I ask, then blush furiously. I wish I could reach out and pull the words out of the air and stuff them back into my mouth. A fancy party. For crying out loud. How old am I?

He grins. “Not super fancy. Maybe medium fancy.”

Medium fancy. What the hell does that mean? What’s his idea of fancy? I won’t fit in if it going to be full of rich, confident people.

I frown as I ponder this, and his smile warms up and takes on a sympathetic look. “Hey. I’m only teasing you. It’ll be a nice party, but nothing over-the-top. Even so, I know I’d be the luckiest man in the room if I walked in with you on my arm. I want you there with me.”

He drops the hair he’s been twirling and runs his thumb over my bottom lip, making me shiver. I hope he doesn’t notice. Going by the slightly mocking smile on his lips, I think he does.

“So? Am I picking you up tonight, or am I picking you up tonight?”

I have to laugh. He’s just too damn much. “You’re picking me up tonight.”

His mouth curves up at the corners in a slow smile. “You’ve made the right choice.”

“I’ve also made a very time-consuming choice.” I glance over at the clock across the room. “I have to get going so I can prepare myself.”

He looks me up and down, eyes narrowing dangerously and sexily, but then everything he does is sexy. I’m fairly sure he’s not even human. “You look pretty good to me right now, just the way you are.”

What woman wouldn’t melt at the sound of those words coming out of his mouth? I have to control myself, or I might end up flat on my back again and take up even more of my day. “Thanks, but I don’t know that your friends or whoever will be at this party will agree with you. Unless the party is here, in this bed.”

“That’s the after party,” he murmurs with another sexy grin.

And now I wonder why we have to go to an actual party at all.