Page 44 of Rescued By the Operative

If it were anyone else renting a fancy car and hiring a driver, I’d think it was a Wall Street bro trying to impress me.

But coming from Jake, it’s different.

He wanted to do something extra nice for me because he respects me. He thinks I’m worth it.

Showing me respect, showing me what he thinks of me is exactly the kind of thing that could make me — not fall for him — but definitely sit up and take notice.

Chapter Eighteen

Jake

Maybe I went a little overboard with hiring a car.

But everything I told Blondie is true.

There’s one reason I hired a driver that I didn’t tell her, though.

I scoot her close to me in the back seat so we can kiss.

Blondie deserves to have an easy night for once. Not a quick fuck in an alleyway.

I curated this date to show her exactly how highly I think of her.

Our lips come together in a soft, feathery kiss at first. Barely a brush of lips. Just a taste, so as not to mess up her lipstick.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Is this why you hired a driver?”

“Maybe. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. It’s safer this way.”

She laughs, and I think my heart may explode out of my chest. If I never hear another sound the rest of my life except for her laughter, I’ll die happy.

And she’s looking at my face with none of the worry that was written in her eyes the last time we were together. She’s simply looking at me, and I can’t stop looking at her.

I cup the back of her neck, angling for a deeper kiss.

She gasps sweetly as I sweep my tongue over the seam of her lips.

“I don’t normally do this in front of other people,” she whispers, indicating the driver.

“He doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“We can save the kissing for later,” I say.

She cocks her head and says, “One more to tide me over.”

I’m so happy I’ve won her over on the idea of kissing. Because kissing Blondie is pure magic. And damn, she’s fun, with her sneaky little hand reaching around and grabbing my ass as her tongue slips into my mouth.

When we finally pull up to the steakhouse in Bozeman, Blondie has to frantically reapply her lipstick.

The host seats us at a table next to a window with a magnificent view of the mountains at sunset. The dining room lights are low, with white lights glittering on the ceiling and white candles on the tables.

I catch her staring wistfully out at the view.

“What’s on your mind, Blondie?”

“I miss the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s so different there.”