Romance by way of a crawfish-eating southerner would not charm the pants off the ladies, though it might earn some points with the dudes.

“Darlin’,” Reid said loudly, “you want romance.” His lips tickled the edge of my neck as he reached around my body for my shoes.

In that moment, when his hand touched the bare skin of my arch, I realized something.

I’d completely underestimated Reid Emory.

In every way that mattered.

He held my heel by the tip of his finger, then started to sing, “Take off those heels, lie on my bed, whisper dirty secrets while I’m pulling on your hair.”

Talking around us all but stopped. He was singing Chase Rice’s cover of “Ride” . . . and he was owning it. And I officially stopped breathing altogether as he dropped the shoe to the ground, removed the next one, and then ran his hands up my legs, his forehead touching mine as he continued singing.

“I’m gonna ride, I’m gonna ride, I’m gonna ride, I’m gonna ride . . . on you, baby, on you, lady, all night, all night. I’m gonna take care of your body . . . I’ll be gentle, don’t you scream . . .”

His voice was rough, masculine, and so sexy that I wanted to hold on to the way it sounded and keep it all to myself. My chest rose and fell like I was about ready to pass out—but it was him, all him. Reid was doing that to me, making me feel weak in my knees even though I wasn’t even standing.

“Yeah, girl, we can go slow.” His lips teased mine between words. He smiled and taunted me with his mouth and then kept singing.

It couldn’t get better—or any hotter.

And then he started moving very slowly beneath me. In. The. Chair.

I nearly hyperventilated as he mimicked parts of the song as he massaged my arms, his hands pulling down each strap of my dress to kiss my bare skin. I arched under his touch, because really, I’d have to be dead not to respond in that way.

He kept singing against my skin, his tongue tasting every inch he could until the words vibrated against me.

I shivered.

The restaurant was dead silent.

“Oh, oh, oh.” He finished the song and then whispered against my lips, “How’s that for a grand gesture?”

Cross-eyed and weary, as if I’d just been made love to, I managed a wobbly, “That works.”

I looked up.

Cell phones everywhere.

Mine started buzzing on the table.

And then the crowd erupted with applause.

Our companion returned, his face flushed. I’m sure he was about to say we were in a restaurant, not a brothel, when our hostess returned and held out a napkin.

“I knew I recognized you! You’re Reid Emory!”

“I am.” His grin was tantalizing, addicting. Where the hell was that wine? I was going to have to guzzle the entire bottle to forget what just took place. My body buzzed while he signed a few autographs.

Our waiter was substantially nicer for the next hour.

By the rate my phone was buzzing I knew Reid had been a hit. His Google alert was going to kill my phone battery.

My hands shook as I scrolled through the notifications. Feminine laughter caused me to glance up.

Two women were hovering over Reid. Both of them had tight dresses on, boobs on display, with perfect complexions. Nobody would ever accuse them of being invisible. I tried not to let the fact that Reid chose to make a scene with me not because he wanted to but because he had no other choice bother me.

One of the girls ran her hand through her long brown hair while she thrust her chest out.

Reid stared.

Then again, he was a guy, not a monk—not in any sense of the word, considering the way the guy kissed.

I cleared my throat.

Both girls shot me a glare at the same time.

I raised my eyebrows. Hey, I was playing the shrew. I didn’t need to play nice. I just wanted them to leave so Reid and I could finish dinner and go home. I needed sleep, with the crazy week we had ahead of us.

“Ah, I should probably finish eating. Thanks for stopping by.” Reid casually dismissed the women, then turned his attention to me. “Did you growl?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes and reached for my empty wineglass. “I’m just tired, and they were lingering.”

“Damn, I hate lingerers,” he joked.

“They’re the worst,” I agreed with a wink. “Refuse to read social cues.”

“And always in your personal space.” He shook his head. “Thank God I have you, Jordan. What would I do without you in my life?”

My eyes narrowed. “Laying it on thick.”

“Dessert.” He tapped his hands against the table and motioned for our companion. Fred scurried over to our table like he was in a race and losing.

“Yes? Sir? Ma’am?”

“Wow, I’m a ma’am now,” I said under my breath.

“Chocolate.” Reid nodded. “We need something with chocolate and a dessert wine to go with. Think you can handle that, Fred?”

“Yes, sir, right away sir.”

I watched Fred retreat. “Did he bow?”

“Fred has a bald spot on the top of his head, who knew?” Reid poured some wine into my glass. “Now, what’s the plan for this week? I only have a few more scenes in the city, then I have a week break before filming ends.”

I chewed my lower lip. “Tomorrow we’re going to do an impromptu video blog in which we’ll give out relationship advice.”

Reid coughed out an uncomfortable laugh. “You mean like bring roses on a date? That type of advice?”