“Yes. I’d like to have sex with you.”
His hand stilled on the glass, but he said nothing, as if knowing she had more to say.
“But I’m not going to do it. I barely know you and I don’t do the sex-with-strangers thing.”
Undeterred, he offered her a cocky grin. “So how long does it take until we’re not strangers? Second date? Third?”
Men. Typical. But part of her couldn’t help but be flattered by his determination. Hiding her amusement, she pretended to think about it. “Hmm...third at least.”
He nodded, then tapped his index finger in the air, as if doing mental calculations.
“Three’s right after two,” she said, her tone dry.
He didn’t stop. “I know that, céadsearc. I’m just tryin’ to figure out whether we can fit three dates in between now and this Saturday.”
“It is only Tuesday,” she said, not sure whether to laugh at his playfulness or give in to shivers of delight at his utter determination to have her.
“What about last night? Having a drink together counts.”
She shook her head and smiled sweetly. “I didn’t have a drink, remember? Miss Double D didn’t even offer me one.”
He frowned deeply. “Oh, yeah.”
“Besides, I don’t think a drink would have made the cut as a real date.” She was enjoying this--setting him up--though he hadn’t realized what she was getting at.
Then he got it. Looking concerned, he asked, “This one counts, right?”
“Well, I don’t know...it’s not exactly dinner.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sean spun around, caught their waitress’s eye and said, “Be a love and bring us two of whatever’s first on your dinner menu.”
The woman frowned. “We don’t have a dinner menu. Just appetizers and finger foods.”
Her mouth twitching as she tried to contain a smile, Annie murmured, “Too bad.”
“Bring one of each of those, then,” Sean told the woman. Once she’d gone, he turned to meet Annie’s eye. “It’s dinner time, and even if it’s naught but a bit of cheese on a cracker, I’m counting anything you put in your mouth.”
The way his stare zoned in on her mouth, Annie suddenly thought of a number of things she’d like to put there. Starting with his tongue. And moving on down his body to the many varied and interesting parts she couldn’t see beneath the table.
“All right,” she admitted, amusement now tempered with a very thick layer of physical awareness. “This is number one.”
Nodding in agreement, he lifted his drink in salute. “Brilliant. Two to go.”
She lifted her wineglass as well, watching him over the rim of it. Wondering if he could take teasing as good as he could give it, she murmured, “But I’m busy tomorrow night, and Friday I have to work late.”
“Thursday then.” He grew serious. “Let me take you out on the intimate dinner date I had offered at the auction.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “I know I put you on the spot about the weekend, I don’t expect you to really take me out to some fancy restaurant.”
“I want to.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “If for no other reason than the chance to see you in that pretty yellow dress again.”
She stared at their hands on the wooden bar table, noting the coolness of his skin, the elegance of his fingers, the perfect manicure, the expensive-looking watch.
How he managed it on a paramedic’s salary, she didn’t know, but he looked like some rich, foreign prince. Judging by some things he’d said about his family, she had to wonder if he came from money, and merely chose to do something none of them had ever expected. As she had.
Then she glanced down at her clothes--the uniform shirt, the spit-up stain, the finger paint--and sighed. How incredible might it be to actually throw off the identity she wore here in Chicago--the nice, nurturing, small-town girl who took care of rich people’s kids--and become a worthy companion to this worldly, sensual man?
“Say yes,” he insisted, realizing she was waffling. “Please, Annie. I agreed to this weekend, the least you can do is join me for dinner.”
Dressing up and going out somewhere special with Sean sounded irresistible. Especially when he appealed to her in that low, intimate tone, with his sexy accent taking those sultry bites out of every one of her defenses.
“Come.”
“All right,” she finally murmured, wondering if she’d have time to go out shopping for yet another dress. “Thursday it is.”
Before he could respond, their food began to arrive. Annie deliberately met Sean’s eye as she lifted a quesadilla to her mouth. Licking her lips, she bit into it, and saw his huge grin in response. Now it was official.
But she wasn’t ready to let him completely off the hook yet. “Sean?” she murmured after she’d finished it.
“Yes?”
“You do realize that if this is number one, and Thursday is number two...our third date is going to be back on the farm where we’re surrounded by my entire family?”
The man’s mouth opened and quickly snapped closed. His broad shoulders slumped the tiniest bit as he sat back in the booth, eyeing her across the expanse of the table. He mumbled something under his breath, reached for his beer, then obviously noted the sparkle in her eye. “Brat.”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.
He didn’t give up. “How late do you have to work Friday?”
Seeing right through him, she replied, “Late. I’ll be at the center, surrounded by lots--and lots--of babies.”
This time there was no mistaking the words that came out of his mouth.
“Bloody hell.”
