Just like he had done with our first experimental date, Lucas had sprung this one on me, too. He’d texted me earlier today to be ready by 9:00 p.m. “Spanish dinnertime,” as he had called it. Expecting him to take me out to a restaurant, I’d dressed up. I was wearing a midi pencil skirt, a light sweater tucked at the front, and my black leather boots.
But we were here. At Alessandro’s.
Lucas had ushered me across the street and now we were standing in front of the one place in New York City whose menu I could recite by heart.
And it was… closed. Even the metallic blinds were down.
I frowned. “Are you sure this is where we’re going?”
Lucas peered at me over his shoulder. “Yep.”
Okay.
“But before we go in,” he said, pulling a key out of the pocket of his bomber jacket, “I want to make sure I got everything right.”
I knew he didn’t need to do that because he’d gotten it just right. He seemed to get everything right.
“Phase two,” he said, reciting the plan I’d come up with. “The second date. While usually underrated, the second date is where curiosity turns into interest. You explore the spark you’ve felt on the first date.”
The spark.
I averted my gaze as heat climbed up my neck. I had some nerve talking about curiosity, interest, or sparks when I was starting to feel far more than just that. If Lucas and I—our experiment—was a romance book, I’d be pages beyond this phase. And that had slowly started showing in my writing sessions. My head hadn’t been as empty and my chest hadn’t felt as stiff, suffocated by all the pressure that had been pushing everything down, and instead of worrying about my running out of time and possibly becoming a failure, I’d found myself daydreaming about Lucas, transforming those thoughts into words on the page. The truth was, however, that time was still ticking, Lucas would leave in three weeks, I had five until my deadline, and I still was a long way from having something—anything—I could send to my editor.
Lucas’s fingers came to my chin, and he tipped my face to the side and up. He met my gaze.
“No take-backs, Rosie.” His expression was one of no nonsense. “Do you still want to do this?”
There wasn’t much to think of, not when he was looking at me like that. All sharp determination in his gaze. “Yes.”
That slow grin broke free, making me a little weak in the knees. Inevitably, I matched him with one of my own. “There it is,” he said, his fingers still on my chin and his eyes dipping down to my lips. “Deslumbrante. Como el mismo sol.”
And my heart started strumming like it was playing a goddamn set of kettledrums.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand the words he’d said in Spanish.
It didn’t matter that until him, I had never had a thing for accents.
It was Lucas, and that seemed to be enough. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I hope you’re hungry.”
I frowned, doubting the accuracy of the translation. But before I could complain, he was stepping away and taking care of the security gate, and poof, the sight of his backside—his ass, in particular—as he kneeled and stretched, dissipated whatever I was going to say.
Life was really unfair. On top of that smile, he also had to have a great ass. One that I’d bet my complete Jane Austen special edition collection was as firm as—
“Rosie?”
My gaze snapped up to his face, finding him looking at me over his shoulder. The biggest smirk known to man tilted the corner of his mouth. “Whenever you’re done checking me out.”
“What?” I screeched, my voice coming out high-pitched and squeaky and obvious. So obvious. I cleared my throat. “I was not checking you out.”
Lucas snickered and stood, throwing the glass entry door open and gesturing for me to go in first. “It’s okay with me, you know? I love the attention.” He paused. “And it’s good to know that you’re an ass woman.”
I was an ass woman. I really was.
With a defeated sigh, I stepped forward and focused on doing damage control on what I knew were flaming red cheeks once I gave him my back. “I wasn’t checking your ass, Lucas. I was just making sure that you…”
The words died the moment I set foot inside the pizzeria and saw what was waiting for me.
Dozens of tea lights formed a trail that parted the pizzeria and led to what I knew was the kitchen.
“I…” I trailed off, my jaw starting to chatter for a reason I couldn’t explain. My whole body trembled. And I didn’t know why. “Lucas,” I somehow managed. “I don’t even know what to say.”