Alex exits and holds out his hand for me. Outside, the cool air helps to clear my head. I’m feeling intoxicated by all things Alex after being trapped in such a small space with him for so long. It feels good to purge my lungs of him for a moment, but the relief doesn’t last long when he hugs me tight against his side and leads me up the stairs to keep me from falling in my heels.

He stops us right outside the huge wooden double doors and turns me to face him. “I must admit I have lied to you, Olivia.”

Oh God, here it comes. He’s not really who he says he is. This isn’t his friend’s house, he’s bankrupt, he’s a drug dealer, a million possible lies swarm in my head like bees while I wait for him to break the news. I should have known. Mama always said, if it feels too good to be true, most likely it is.

“This is my house, and the only people on the guest list are you and me.”

What? “Seriously? You had me get all buffed and sparkly for New Year’s Eve, and it’s only us?”

“Am I not enough for you, Olivia?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” he asks, not accusingly but sounding curious.

“I thought there was going to be a big bash, that’s how you made it sound. And what about the friend you RSVP’d? You made me feel guilty for wanting to cancel with that line.”

“We should all be our own best friend, Olivia. I RSVP’d myself, and I will not apologize for making you believe otherwise.”

“Because you got what you wanted.”

“Yes, precisely.”

Well, I guess I can’t fault him for that. It’s a little shady. He could have just asked me if I’d come to dinner with him at his house on New Year’s… never mind, he was right to lie. I would have never accepted an invitation like that especially since I was trying to get out of it in the first place.

“Come inside, dinner should be almost ready.”

“You never mentioned dinner, but then again you never mentioned a lot of things.”

“Be nice, Olivia.”

Be nice? I am being nice. He’s the one who manipulated me into having a private dinner with him. “Only if you promise you’re not going to throw me into a well and fatten me up so you can make a skin dress.”

His eyes widen, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he is trying to suppress a smile. “Silence of the Lambs, Olivia? Really? I’m not interested in anything but your company and your body.”

Did he just say what I think he said? “My body?”

“Yes, your body. Is there a problem with that?”

“As long as you know, it’s my body to do with as I please, and you don’t get that shit twisted.”

He stops in the foyer abruptly and laughs so hard I start to smile myself. He might be presumptuous, but I am equally bold. Nobody treats me like a hunk of meat nor do they assume they can have me just because they want me.

His laughter sputters to a stop, and he helps me with my coat. “I’m sorry, you’re a breath of fresh air, Olivia Johnson. I’m not used to being spoken to like that, but I think I like it, a lot. And just to clarify, I don’t expect you ever to do anything you don’t want to do with your body or otherwise. I don’t foresee a problem in that department as we are quite attracted to each other, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Let me hang up your coat, and we will go eat. Then I’ll give you a tour of the house, and maybe we will see a ghost.”

I’d rather not see a ghost, but a tour of the house sounds like it would be nice. “Sure, I’d like that.” He leads me through the house with his hand on the small of my back as I’m learning is his way. I try to take in the beauty of the ninety-year-old house, but he is on a mission to feed me, and there’s no time to stop and smell the roses.

The dining room is spectacular with its high ceilings, intricate molding, and a gorgeous view of the forest. It’s dark out, but the grounds outside are lit up with magical twinkle lights like the front of the house. The table is long, capable of seating at least twelve people but only set for two at one end.

I jump when a woman enters the opposite end of the room with a large covered tray. Alex moves to the end of the table and pulls out a chair for me. “That will be all, Greta. If we need anything else, I’ll ring for you.”

I glance at the pudgy middle-aged woman with gray hair and smile apologetically. Alex’s tone and bossiness are overboard, and the woman is working on New Year’s Eve. I feel bad for her.

A small smile crosses her face when Alex isn’t looking, and she excuses herself without a word. Alex sits down and removes the cover from the food. He is chatting and serving while I sit and stare at him with hard eyes.

He notices my lack of participation in the conversation and looks over at me.

“Is something wrong, Olivia?”

“Yes. Why were you so rude to that woman?”

He jerks his head back and sits up erect in his chair surprised. “Rude?”

“Yes, the tone you took with her…”

He interrupts my complaint holding up his hand. “Greta has been working for me for twelve years. I can assure you she is happy here and quite used to my tone.”

“I would never let anyone speak to me like that.”

“That’s why you are your own boss. You have the streak.”

“What streak?”

“Some people have a strong streak of independence. They cannot tolerate being ruled over, and their soul naturally opposes all forms of restriction. You have that streak, and it’s difficult for you to see others who don’t have it suffering, so to say, what you cannot stand yourself.”

“Are you a mind reader or something? How is it that we hardly know each other, and you seem to have me pegged so well?”

“I’m good at reading people, and I see a lot of myself in you. I, too, have the streak.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should, it was intended as one. I may be curt with the staff, but as I said, they’re used to it and are well compensated for their time and tolerance. Now that that’s out of the way, are you ready to eat?”

I nod and place my napkin in my lap looking around the dining room again. I’ve never been into old houses or buildings and their decor. I prefer industrial with a touch of Bohemian flair myself. Alex’s home is decorated in pure 1920’s period pieces to match the mansion. I don’t think I’d like any of it in another environment, but in here, they are exactly right.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Nine years. The neighborhood is historically preserved, and no one wanted to put the time and effort into restoring this beast, not to mention it’s known to be haunted. I saw it as a labor of love.”

“Haunted, huh? I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“I didn’t either until I moved in here.”

“So you think they’ll change my mind?”

“Perhaps. I think they’ll enjoy having you around, though.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I say looking around for signs of the spirit world. I wasn’t lying about not believing in ghosts, I don’t. I do, however, believe in evil.

“You look worried. I thought you didn’t believe.”

“I don’t believe there are ghosts per say, like spirits caught between heaven and hell. I do believe in evil and demons. I think they trick us into believing we are seeing ghosts or spirits of loved ones to upset us.”

He looks thoughtful and removes my plate to serve me what I think is a rack of lamb. “So you believe in heaven and hell and angels and demons, but you think human spirits go one way or another and don’t linger.”

“Yes, more or less.”

He hands me my plate. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you? It hadn’t occurred to me to ask until now. I apologize.”

“No, not at all. Lamb?”

“Yes, Greta is the best cook I’ve ever employed. You’ll beg on your knees for the recipe. I guarantee it.”

On my knees, huh? That comment conjures up all kinds of images, but none had anything to do with recipes or his sweet cook, Greta.

He stops serving suddenly and asks, “What are you thinking?”

“Um, nothing, why?”

“Your eyes went from hickory brown to almost black with lust.”

“They did not.”

“They did. Would you like a mirror?”

I roll my eyes and huff. “Why would a recipe for rack of lamb fill me with lust?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Do you have a love of cooking or lambs? Please tell me you don’t have a lamb fetish.”

I chuckle, a lamb fetish? I don’t even want to think about what that means.

“Neither. I’m not much of a cook, and I don’t even know what a lamb fetish would entail, no pun intended.”

His face relaxes, and a smile slides across his face. “It was the part about being on your knees then, wasn’t it?”

I look away embarrassed. How does he do that?

“Don’t be embarrassed. This is us getting to know each other, and I quite like knowing that intrigues you.”

“I never admitted to that. You’re assuming, and you know what they say about assuming.”

“I know I’m right, and it shouldn’t upset you.”

He pours me a glass of champagne, and I give up on arguing, something I’m not known to do, but with Alex, it’s easier than the alternative. I don’t want to have a conversation about submission at the dinner table on our first date.

“Thank you. So, are you from Seattle originally?”

“Yes, born and raised.”

“Does your family still live here?”

His posture stiffens, and he sets the bottle of champagne down harder than necessary. Family problems. Great. Him, too? “My mother does, my father died when I was in high school.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be, it was a long time ago.”

“No siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child. You?”

“No, I’m an only child, too.”

“We won’t have many people to invite to the wedding, will we?”

My hand freezes holding a forkful of lamb halfway to my mouth. He did not just say wedding, he couldn’t have. I’m hearing things.

“Relax, I’m playing with you.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, and he covers my free hand with his. “I do like you a lot, though, Olivia, and I intend to get to know you intimately.”

Whoa, he has to stop with the innuendos before I go running out the front door. “I like you, too. You’re a little overwhelming, but I like you.”

He squeezes my hand before letting go and raising his glass for a toast. I do the same. “To overwhelming intimate moments,” he says clinking his glass with mine. I’m not sure how to take that, so I keep quiet and drink my champagne.

After dinner and a bottle of champagne, we start our tour of what I have now learned is the Highland Wolfe Estate. It’s ten thousand square feet of elegance and style that I can’t imagine living in.

“The gardens are beautiful in the spring and summer. I spend a lot of time on the back patio then. I love the outdoors, but unfortunately, I don’t get to spend much time outside with my work schedule.”

“What are you into?” I realize after I’ve said it what a loaded question it might be, but I don’t care. I find myself wanting to know more and more about him. Anything he’s willing to share, I’m eager to eat it right up.

We are walking along the length of one of the living rooms. It has floor-to-ceiling French doors that face the backyard.

“I enjoy hiking, mountain biking, running, most anything that can give me a break from stuffy courtrooms and offices.”

“I love to run. I don’t take enough time to do it regularly, though. Most of the running I do is my business.”

“I understand that all too well. We should go for a run sometime.”

“I’d like that, but you might get frustrated with me. I’m not in the best shape right now.”

He steps away from me still clasping my hand and twirls me in a circle. I laugh at the sudden spin. “I disagree, you look like you are in perfect shape to me.”

The lights are dim, and the reflection of the twinkly lights from outside give the room a warm, romantic glow. He pulls me to his chest pressing me flush against him and slides his hands up my arms. Goosebumps break out all over my body from the contact, and my tummy does a flip and then a flop.

He moves in to claim my mouth, and I feel my muscles go limp. The kiss begins slow and explorative, tongues tasting, sliding against each other. It feels wonderful, but I keep thinking, analyzing, and second-guessing myself wondering what I’m doing here with this man.

That all comes to an abrupt halt when he kicks the passion up a notch, deepening the kiss. I slide my hands up his lapels feeling the muscles of his chest rippling under the expensive material. His mouth is hungry as the kiss becomes molten hot. I feel his hand slide around to my nape, and the other down my back to cup my ass.

If a fire alarm went off or someone said a typhoon was only moments away, it couldn’t stop me from responding to him.

“Olivia,” he says still kissing me. “We have to stop,” he says the words, but they don’t exactly register in my mind, and he doesn’t stop kissing me, so I ignore his plea. He walks me backward to the nearest set of French doors until my back is pressed against the chilly glass panes. His hands move to my breasts and slide up to my shoulders and into my hair where he manages to loosen the updo that my stylist took an hour to create. As soon as I feel my hair fall down my back, he threads his fingers in the tangles tugging my head back gently to give him better access to my neck.

Between kisses and nips of my skin, he growls. “Olivia, I’m warning you now, if we don’t stop, I’ll be ringing in the new year inside of you.”

Now that grabs my attention. I put my hands on his chest to put distance between us to catch my breath. “Alex, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of me. I’m into this, very much so actually, but I just met you and…”

“Shush,” he says holding a finger to my lips. “I’m sorry I got carried away. I’ve been thinking about kissing you like that since the first time I saw you.”

I kiss the tips of his fingers, and he removes them stepping away from me. I reach out and take hold of the lapel on his tux and step back into his space. “I’m glad you kissed me. I wanted you too, but I’d like to take it slow if that’s all right.”

“It is, say no more. I promise to be a perfect gentleman for the rest of the night or at least until midnight.”

I smile, and he kisses my forehead and takes my hand to lead me further on our tour. “I have a surprise for you upstairs.”

I look at him suspiciously, and he chuckles. “Not that kind of surprise. I promised, remember?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I am a man who always keeps his promises, Olivia. Remember that.”