Page 37 of Hunt Me

“That’s what I thought.” I return my attention to driving, but keep my hand exactly where it is. “Dinner first,detka. Then we’ll see how much you want me to stop.”

The tension thickens during the drive, neither of us speaking. My hand stays on her thigh, a possessive weight she doesn’t shake off. Her breathing shifts—shallow, controlled, like she’s calculating every breath.

I pull up to Sorellina, and the valet is already moving toward us.

“Italian?” She eyes the restaurant’s elegant facade. “Predictable.”

“You prefer what? Fast food?”

“I prefer not being manipulated into dates by stalkers.”

I round the car, open her door. “And yet here you are.”

She takes my offered hand, standing in one fluid motion that brings her inches from my chest. “One dinner. Then you leave me alone.”

“Sure.” I don’t release her hand. “That’s exactly what’ll happen.”

The hostess greets us with practiced warmth, leading us to a corner table with dim lighting and enough privacy to feel dangerous. Iris slides into her seat, crossing her legs so the dress shifts higher.

I sit across from her, studying the menu without really seeing it.

“Stop staring,” she says without looking up from her own menu.

“Can’t help it. You wore that dress on purpose.”

“Maybe I dress like this every night.”

“Liar.” I set down the menu. “You dressed for me. Wanted to see if you could throw me off my game.”

Her eyes lift, meeting mine. “Did it work?”

“Completely.”

That surprises her—the honesty. Her mask slips just enough to show curiosity underneath.

The waiter appears. I order wine without asking her preference, and she bristles.

“Presumptuous.”

“You would’ve ordered the same thing.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Pinot Noir. ‘09 vintage if they have it. You mentioned it in an email three months ago to a client.”

Color drains from her face. “You read my?—”

“All of them.” I lean back, casual. “Your correspondence is fascinating. Very professional. Except when you’re annoyed. Then you get creative with your syntax.”

“That’s a violation of?—”

“Says the woman who dumped our entire server architecture online last week?”

Her jaw sets. “That was different.”

“How?”

“You deserved it.”