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Wrong Number, Right Guy by Tara Wylde, Holly Hart (108)

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight

32. CARSON

“Look, I just wanted to invite you to dinner again tonight,” I say, propping my hands on my thighs.

I’m more out of breath than I’d like to admit. Sprinting eight blocks will do that to you, even when you spend three hours a day in the gym. Then again, I’ve always been more into strength training than cardio.

Cassie’s fiery brows draw down over her eyes and she looks away. I don’t blame her.

“Carson, we’ve been over this,” she says. “I can’t. Not right now.”

That’s my cue to surrender. I hold up my hands, palms forward. You got me, sheriff.

Just dinner,” I say. “At a restaurant. Nowhere near my apartment.”

She gives me a sidelong look.

“I really would like to discuss Tricialicious with you,” I say. “That’s where I was running from. I was just talking to Tricia about … a bunch of stuff.”

I was also using my smartphone to confirm that you did, in fact, graduate from the Citadel at the top of your class.

“I was hoping to catch you at your place, but here you are.”

“What’s so urgent all of a sudden?” she asks warily.

“I just think that there’s a situation that we need to discuss. It could have a drastic effect on your deal and how you move forward with it.”

She sizes me up. I’ve never really noticed it before but Cassie can look pretty intimidating when she wants to.

“This isn’t about you putting money in, is it?” she asks. “Because if it is, the answer is no.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Not right now, anyway.

“I just think there are some aspects to your situation that you might not have considered. I’ve sort of got … insider information that I think you’ll find very valuable.”

She shakes her head, tossing those blazing curls, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I don’t want to get involved in anything that isn’t above board. Insider information is a slippery slope. And I’ve already told you, I want to do this on my own.”

“It’s definitely not illegal,” I say, although a lawyer and a prosecutor would probably argue all day over that. “Tell you what: I’ll give you the information, and you decide whether it’s ethical or not to use it. That way, the choice is entirely up to you.”

Her azure eyes soften.

“Welll….” she says.

I hold up my hand in a Boy Scout salute.

“I solemnly swear that I won’t try to get you back to my place.”

That does it: she finally cracks that radiant smile. Phew. I haven’t had to work that hard in a long time.

Then again, I’ve never cared about another woman the way I care about this one. For as long as I’ve known her, practically as long as I’ve been alive. And this is far and away the most important date of my life.

Cassie doesn’t know it yet, but it’s the most important date of her life, too.

“All right,” she says. “Is this going to be a fancy restaurant?”

“The fanciest.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’d be just as happy at Burger King, you know.”

“Humor me. I have a lot of disposable income. And I have to dispose of it somehow, since you won’t let me give any of it to you.”

“All right. What’s it called?”

“Have you ever heard of Piccolo?”

She scrunches her face. “Hm… nope, strangely enough, I haven’t heard of your ridiculously fancy restaurant.” The she quickly adds: “It’s in Midtown, right?”

“Yup. I guarantee you’re going to love it.”

“It better not have a coatroom,” she says sternly.

“No,” I chuckle. “No coatroom.”

“So I need to wear a gown again?”

“You could wear exactly what you’re wearing right now and I’d be over the moon,” I say. “But you’d be the only woman in the restaurant dressed that way. Now, I personally think they’d all be jealous of you, but you might not agree.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “If I have to.”

I clap my hands and do an abysmal end-zone dance. “Yes!”

“You are such a geek,” she giggles.

“Takes one to know one.”

Suddenly a shadow crosses her face. I can only imagine what she must be thinking. But whatever it is, I can understand.

“Everything okay?” I ask, placing a hand on her creamy shoulder. The sensation is incredible. Just laying a hand on her bare skin is enough to make me shiver.

“It’s nothing,” she says with a quick smile. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

That sparks a thought. I don’t really want to let her out of my sight until we meet for dinner. Not that I expect any problems, but there’s no point in tempting fate.

“I’ve got an idea,” I say. “Why don’t you let me take you out right now and buy you a dress?”

The shadow is back again in an instant.

“Carson, how many times do I have to tell you…”

“Hear me out: we find you a dress, you wear it tonight, and then I donate it to a charity auction. You get an amazing gown, the Left-Handed Cellists Guild or some such group gets a donation, and I get a tax receipt.”

Giggles again. That’s what I wanted to hear. What I needed to hear. As though Cassie’s laughter, her very happiness, is a drug that has me hooked. Hell, who am I kidding? I am hooked. Always have been.

She seems to be mulling it over. I’m pretty sure she’ll think it’s a good idea, too.

“All right,” she says. “If it will make you happy, I’ll go shopping for an expensive evening gown. But you so owe me, buster.”

There’s no way I could keep the smile off my face right now if I tried. I feel like this is our chance to finally go to the prom, and get it right this time. No jealousy, no bitterness, mulling over what could have been. Just Cassie and me, going on our very first date all over again,

I cock an elbow at her and she slides a perfect arm through it, clasping her hands and locking on to me. If I had my way, she’d never let go.

Please, whatever God there may be out there, let this night go as planned.

“Well then,” I say, looking up at the sky. “Which direction to Oscar de la Renta?”

She actually gasps. Not just an intake of air, an actual gasp, like in an old-tyme movie.

“You’re not serious,” she says, eyes like blue moons in her face.

“Sorry,” I say with a mock grimace. “It’s the only place that’s close.”

She slams her shoulder into mine but doesn’t let go of my arm. We head north on Forty-Second, walking slowly. We’re not in any hurry. As far as I’m concerned, we can keep on walking arm-in-arm like this until, oh, say the year 2099.

“I should see if I can find a belt,” she says after a half a block.

“Yeah? Need a new belt, do you?”

“Well, I need something I can strangle you with in case you decide to try anything tonight.”

I feign shock. “I would never.”

She giggles again. If she only knew.