揧ou mean it disappeared when you transformed into Mr. Smith??Lifting one foot from my shoe under the table, I slide it against his leg.
The sly smile he gives me makes me feel naked.
揑f anything I said offended you, tell me,?he whispers.
揅ole, we抮e cool.?And I will myself to make those words true.
The server returns soon, carrying coffees on a silver tray with an assortment of creams, high-end sweeteners, and honey. She sets a carafe down with an empty ceramic mug. 揃lack.?
The next one is a huge see-through mug. It抯 covered in whipped cream and drizzled with fragrant chocolate, with a middle layer of what looks like the Japanese coffee jelly I抳e heard about.
Finally, the Tokyo lungo in a wide mug. The long shot of espresso steams the air with its glorious scent. She also leaves Cole his plum wine in a glass.
揂nything else??the waitress asks.
Umm桰抦 good for like the next week on fancy coffee, but I look at him.
揑 think she抯 happy, and that抯 all I wanted,?he says, sipping his wine smugly.
I can抰 help but giggle once the waitress leaves.
揑 hate you. You make it way too hard to stay mad,?I say.
揋ood. Then you抣l finally tell me what you were mad about??
揙h. I wasn抰 mad exactly…？
揕ike hell. Something I said ruffled your feathers, Eliza.?His hand slides across the table, capturing my fingers.
揑 misspoke. I抦 sorry. I was never mad. More like…？I trail off, taking a long pull from the dessert drink and slipping into coffee heaven. It reminds me of hot chocolate with a delicious Japanese twist, the best of east and west coming together in a taste-gasm that curls my toes.
揥hat were you then??His eyes are piercing as they search mine.
揌uh??I pick up the black coffee for a pallet cleanse. It抯 nothing special, but I can dress it up however I want for a few sips before I pass it over to him.
揧ou said you weren抰 mad. You used the wrong word. What were you, sweetheart??
Good question.
?I don抰 know.?I pause, trying to decide how I condense my whole messed up history with Derek into something he抣l understand without thinking the worst of me. Or even if I should.
This whole time I keep wondering if he抯 over his wife, but what does it say if Derek is alive and well and evil as ever in my own memory?
揑 was just enjoying the moment. With Cole, I mean梟ot Mr. Smith. Honest.?I squeeze his hand, digging my nails softly into his palm.
After dinner, he helps me to the Lincoln waiting at the curb and slides in beside me. I抦 so full it抯 a miracle he doesn抰 have to roll me into the car.
揟his was my first date in over a decade,?he says, the city抯 nighttime shadows cascading across his face. 揇on抰 write me off just yet over one dull alias, Eliza.?
揑 guess I won抰 this time, Mr. Smith,?I joke.
揥e won抰 have to hide forever,?he promises, taking my hand and kissing the back. 揙nce we抮e in the clear, we抮e done with this cloak and dagger bullshit.?
揌ow sweet of you,?I tease.
He lifts my hand, turns it palm up, brings it to his mouth, and plants his lips in the center.
God. How does something so innocent melt my soul?
Does it only make me crazier for ignoring red flags and jumping into bed with him?
He抯 still staring at me with an expression I don抰 recognize.
揧ou enjoyed the date then??he asks.
I smile so wide my face hurts. 揧ou抣l see me again soon. There抯 your answer.?
揥ithout the dress??he growls in my ear just as the car stops next to my apartment.
We get out and he walks me to the door.
Before tonight, we also agreed that we抎 try to keep things clean梩ry to control the storming desires that can cloud any new relationship so easily.
But when he pulls me close and his tongue delves into my mouth, it抯 all the encouragement I need. We抮e both sucking and straining and gasping for air when he breaks away with a muffled, 揊uck.?
揅ole??
揧eah??
揘ever wait three days to kiss me again. Also, never let me make any stupid promises about ending things with a goodnight kiss,?I whisper, brushing his lips.
His lips find mine again with a low, hungry rumble. I love his frustration boiling into my mouth, the passion lashing in his eyes as he rips away from me.
揑f I ever entertain this stupid chaste shit again, shoot me first,?he says, his hand sweeping my hip. 揑t has to be less painful than this. Definitely less brutal than the smurf balls I抣l be dragging home tonight.?
A few days later, I抦 in the lab, working on a frozen drink when I hear footsteps.
Troy stops at my side, wearing that pearly white smile that seems permanently riveted to his face.
揌ey.?I smile at him and return my eyes to my blender.