Page 5

“I wouldn't put it past him. He's not used to being told no.”
I hesitate, weighing my options. On one hand, the idea of spending more time with Mark is strangely alluring, but at the same time, it also makes me nervous. I don’t know who he really is, and while he did help me, he’s also unbelievably arrogant. Do I want to be stuck with him for an extra hour or even more? On the other hand, the thought of Charlie stalking me home makes me very, very nervous.
“Alright,” I say and glance up at Mark with a resigned expression. “Lead the way.”
He takes my hand, his fingers lacing through mine as he guides me through the crowded bar. I can't help but notice the way people part for him. He doesn’t even know the effect he has on those around him.
We settle into a booth in the back corner, and the angles of his face appear even more pronounced in the shadows created by the dim lighting. “Comfortable?” He leans back, one arm stretched along the top of the booth, his posture the epitome of casual arrogance. Yet, his eyes are anything but relaxed. They scan the crowd like a predator on the hunt, never quite settling.
“Sure,” I lie, crossing one leg over the other as I attempt to match his nonchalance. My heart races, betraying the falsehood I’m trying to convey.
Our gazes meet for a moment, and I feel myself caught up in his, the seconds passing us by. An electric charge fills the air, a push and pull that dances between us, daring either of us to make a move.
“Thanks for... again… you know,” I start, breaking the silence that had begun to throb with unspoken words, realizing I’m repeating myself.
“Playing your knight in shining armor?” he smirks, raising an eyebrow.
“Something like that.” A reluctant smile tugs at my lips, even as I roll my eyes at his ego.
“Well, they say the third time’s a charm,” he says, now leaning forward, his hands interlaced on the table.
“Third time’s the charm?” I ask, confused.
“For you to thank me.” He gives me a wink.
Oh, so he noticed my little goof-up. I blush and say nothing. To my surprise, he catches on and changes the topic. “So, what should we drink?”
“I wouldn’t mind a wine,” I say, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger for comfort, a habit I’ve had since I was a little girl.
He raises a hand and motions at the waiter. “A bottle of…?” he questions, looking back at me.
“White, please.” I give him a smile.
“Bring me the 1996 Chapoutier Ermitage Blanc and some of those lovely salmon tarts,” he says, handing the waiter a bill as an advance tip. Meanwhile, I’m still reeling from the fact that he ordered a bottle of wine without even glancing at the menu. Iquickly skim through it and quietly notice it costs five hundred dollars.
I choose to say nothing. When the bill arrives, I’ll pay my share. God knows I earn enough and rarely get to spend it. After the adventure tonight has been, I might as well regard it as a night to remember.
“Of course, Sir,” the waiter says and wanders off.
“So,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Tell me about yourself, Quinn. What made you decide to start a dating agency?”
I blink, taken aback by the question. “I... I wanted to help people find love,” I say, my voice wavering slightly. “I know how hard it can be to put yourself out there. To be vulnerable.”
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “And have you? Found love, I mean.”
The question is so damn loaded and I wonder why he asked it. It’s just curiosity, I assume. It takes me by surprise and I find myself at a loss for words. Just then, the waiter returns with the wine and pours us both glasses, giving me time to think.
He raises his glass and we cheer, before taking a sip.
”So?” he sets his glass down.
I swallow hard, my heart racing beneath my ribs. “No,” I whisper. “I haven't.”
“Maybe you've been looking in the wrong places.” His gaze softens with kindness, an emotion I didn’t expect from him. It takes me by surprise, compelling me to speak the truth.
“If only I’d been looking, that is.”
”Oh?” he inquires.