Every conversation took a twist or turn he didn’t anticipate. She asked questions that, at first glance, were so off topic, yet weren’t. While he had hoped their dinner would be friendly, he hadn’t expected to be so intrigued by the woman sitting opposite him. She was in turns a gentle summer breeze and then a bracing breath of winter air.
What started out as curiosity had turned into so much more. And he suddenly had the urge to learn everything about her.
Emerson had fought to pay the bill with Connor and lost. But his promise that she could pay next time, if she really felt she needed to, was the sign she’d been hoping for.
That he intended to see her again.
Taking one last check of her lipstick, Emerson washed her hands, dried them, and left the bathroom. Connor was engrossed in something on his phone, and she had a moment to study his profile. Eye candy was an understatement, and while she wasn’t usually one to tear her own reflection apart, she did have a fleeting moment of insecurity as to what he saw in her.
Their conversation had been wide, varied, deep at times, and honest. More importantly, they’d laughed.
It was safe to say she wanted another date with Connor as much as she wanted to walk into the distillery tomorrow and find the gin-loving elves had fixed Constance for free overnight.
“Ready?” Connor said as she approached him. He smiled at her as he slid his phone into his pocket.
“Of course.”
He held the door open, placing his hand in the small of her back as she passed by. The heat and pressure from his touch caused her to shiver slightly.
“Cold?” he asked. “Would you like my jacket?”
Emerson smiled. “That’s a very swoony gesture, but I’m fine in my own. Thank you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t lay it down in a puddle for you or anything. You’re sweet, but you are no Queen Elizabeth I.” Connor took her hand, and she linked her fingers with his. “I’d like to spend some more time with you if you’re okay with that. A walk, maybe. Another drink somewhere?”
There were times for intrigue, for playing coy. But at thirty years of age, standing in front of the first man in a long while who made her feel a spark of something, now wasn’t it. “I’d like that very much.”
She wrapped her other hand around his incredibly solid bicep and leaned against him.
They wandered along Larimer Square, one of the most historic spots in Denver. Between the sparkling lights hanging across the street and the bustling excitement of people out of work for the weekend, Emerson’s previously fading spirit became completely energized.
“The Crimson Room?” Connor suggested, pointing to the famous red door.
Umm. A night of jazz, perhaps a glass of red wine, and more time with Connor. “Sounds perfect.”
He did that thing again, where he opened the door and placed a hand on her back, and this time she just managed to control the shivers it gave her.
Just.
They found a spot in a cozy corner. A sofa in red velour with a small table tucked deep in the shadows of the club. A jazz trio was playing a sultry piece across the room. Connor slipped his jacket off and rolled up the cuffs of his shirt. The action was so damn masculine that Emerson crossed her legs to ease the ache between them as she took a seat. He took the seat next to her and turned to face her again, placing his hand on her knee, allowing it to drift to the hem of her skirt.
His fingers were warm and gentle, and Emerson bit down a grin and turned to watch the trio for a moment to allow her heartbeat to return to normal.
The waitress arrived, and Connor ordered her choice of red wine, a perfect pinot, a small glass seeing she had to drive home, and a single malt whiskey for himself.
He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne reminding her of one of the candles she liked to burn. Not a floral note to be had. “I have to be honest,” he said, his breath tickling her ear and sending a shiver down her spine. “You aren’t what I expected, Emerson.”
She turned her head slightly, looking directly into his eyes. In the dark, they looked even brighter than normal. “What were you expecting?”
Their lips were so close, it would only take a fraction of a movement for them to touch.
“I may keep that to myself. But it’s very safe to say that, whatever expectations I had, you’ve surpassed them.” The breath of his words fluttered over her skin, leaving her a little breathless.
Then he smiled and leaned back a little in his chair, but his fingers teased the ends of her hair. “So, you like jazz?” he asked.
The interaction had left her feeling stirred like a good martini…and perhaps a little like a dirty one. She bit back her grin at the connotation. “I do,” she said, relaxing as he had. “And rock. And classical music. And rap. A bit of an all-rounder. Tell me about your family? Do you have any siblings?”
Connor shook his head. “Only child right here. My mom and dad split up when I was really young, so I don’t have a lot of memories of them together. My mom remarried my stepdad. Derek has been a part of our lives since I was four. They get along okay. Just weren’t meant to be and all that. Mom and Derek couldn’t have kids, so there’s just me. You might have heard of my dad, Donovan Finch…”
Connor was looking at her expectantly, but while she wished she could say she had, she hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I know of your company by name. There aren’t many large liquor distributors based in Denver, so I knew your company existed. It’s funny how our paths have never really crossed before. Well, apart from the whole I-don’t-like-going-to-networking-type-things phobia I have going on.”
Connor studied
