I'm sick of being the one everyone thinks they can just pass over like a stepping stone.
Tonight, things change.
"You ready, Mr. Sterling?"
I nod. "I'll sober up at dinner. You have someone able to pick you up from there?"
He nods, and I sit back for the brief trip to the restaurant, wondering what bait Harley plans to dangle.
And how far I'm willing to go.
Chapter 12
HARLEY
It's not a real date. It's not a real date.
That's what I keep telling myself.
I don't even want to date Dale.
Okay, that's a lie. Everyone has that one guy they've obsessed over. Dale was mine. And after my revenge plan was nipped in the bud and I saw that file on his life …
I'm getting soft.
Harley Hayden is a badass. Not soft.
But I'm soft right now.
I'm as nervous as a witch in Salem during the trials as one of those evil little bitches points a finger at me and wrongfully accuses me to the whole town.
Specific enough?
I'm also trying not to giggle like a little teen girl when I see Dale walking through the restaurant, heading right toward this table.
I showed up an hour early and waited with my driver-George. Who graciously let me ramble on during that time about how stupid this all was. Because I'm an idiot who is struggling to remember this is not an actual date. George was paid and tipped well for lending me his ear.
Dale is showing up right on time.
And he looks just as sexy as I'd feared. His hair has been trimmed since yesterday-the sides cut even shorter, which makes the top look a little longer. No one else could pull off that look as well as he does.
His short, barely-there, neatly trimmed beard is nothing less than perfection, not a single hair out of place. I remind myself that I do not want to touch that beard. Not at all. I also don't want to feel it tickling the insides of my legs.
Down, girl.
His button-down shirt is just as light as his eyes, and it makes him look all the more foreboding and powerful at the same time.
An easy smile is on his lips as he rakes his eyes over me. Do I stand to greet him? Do I stay in my seat? Do I-
Falling out of my chair is not the right answer, but I almost do when I try to stand and my ankle rolls.
Dale is there immediately, strong hands encircling my wrists to keep me steady. My entire body shudders with the contact, and I look up to see him smirking down at me.
"Been drinking without me?" he asks, his voice doing all kinds of unexpected things to the less innocent parts of my body.
"No," I whisper, all breathy and spellbound as I stare into those incredibly light blue eyes.
My lungs practically burst into ashes, bypassing flames, when he brushes his lips across my cheek in the softest of greetings. I can't feel my legs. Or arms. Or anything else right now. All I can feel is the heat of his lips from the barest of kisses.
He takes a seat across from me as I stare stupidly at him.
"You look amazing," he says, his eyes dipping to the top of my red dress.
It's scandalous and makes me look like I'm here with far more vixen-motivated intentions than I am, but … impact. I went for impact. And I dumped out the entire arsenal, red dress included.
"Thanks," I say quietly, fighting with all my strength not to give him a dopey grin.
Plenty of guys have given me that same compliment since I found a way to feel comfortable in my own skin. But none of those guys were Dale.
What is it about him that does this stupid shit to me?
He flashes me that award-winning smile, and I sigh. Loudly. Fortunately he's ordering us a bottle of wine and doesn't notice. I like the way he doesn't bother asking me which one I want.
It's been a long time since a guy had the confidence it takes to be in my presence and act on his own, without asking me to take charge and handle everything.
In fact, I don't think I've ever dated anyone like that. Most of the guys are completely submissive, always questioning what I think we should do. It's not surprising that Dale isn't one of those guys.
"Is it like you remember?" Dale asks, lowering his menu as he locks his gaze with mine.
"Is what like I remember?" I ask, worrying I missed another question before that one.
"Sterling Shore," he says, though it sounds like a question.
"Same ocean. Same town. Same people, for the most part. I've only been back for a couple of days."
He nods as the waiter returns with our wine and glasses. Dale doesn't acknowledge him, because those blue eyes are still fused to me.
From there, he sticks to safe conversation. He tells me the best dishes to pair with the wine-which is freaking amazing, even though he weirdly only drinks water. He tells me about what new 'attractions' I should check out in town. And he makes a reference to dessert.
I keep waiting on that big apology so I can run out of here instead of staring at him and planning our futures like a psychotic teen all over again, but he never once strays to that line of conversation. It's all safe.
Even as the food comes, safe chat.
"So the Renard Building?" he asks, seemingly confused.
I've just told him about which building I acquired for my new headquarters.
"Yeah. It was fresh, had an excellent location, and the interior was in great shape."
"True, but it's awfully small for a headquarters."
My eyebrow arches. "It's just a small number of us in the inner circle. Two stories is plenty. Most of my programmers and tech peeps work from home. The heads of all departments will be the only ones given an office."
He nods as though that makes perfect sense, but still seems to be confused.
"I guess the world is changing," he says on a sigh, but flashes a smile. "How'd you get into all that?"
"Big gamer. Started beta testing as a side gig in college, and then learned programming. Next thing I knew, I was designing apps, since that's the way the world was leaning. I got in at the perfect time, learned how to push the market, and played up the marketing in the beginning. Now it's likely most everyone has at least one of my company's apps on their phone."
"Really?" he asks, grinning.
"Really," I say proudly.
I expect him to look at his phone, but he doesn't. Instead, he leans back, finished with his food, and studies me for a long minute.
"Why'd you agree to go out with me tonight?" he asks.
Because I wanted to hear that apology.
Who am I kidding? That's bullshit and he knows it as much as I do.
But telling him I came to fulfill a stupid girl's fantasy is not the smartest, or sanest, thing to confess.
"Why'd you ask me to come out?" I ask in deflection.
Before he can answer, our waiter returns, removing our plates as he sets down the dessert Dale insisted we share. I love chocolate. There's a reason skinny doesn't work for me, and it's rich, sweet, and damn delicious.
Dale dodges the question just like I dodged his, and dips his spoon in the little piece of chocolate-on-chocolate heaven. I pick up my spoon as well, but he suddenly leans over, offering me the bite on his spoon.
My breath gets all shaky again as my eyes lock onto his, seeing a smirk spread over his lips.
Trying not to inhale the chocolate like a junkie, I lean forward, wrap my lips around his spoon, and slowly move back with the spoon and the incredible piece of chocolate cake in my mouth.
Don't giggle and choke. Don't giggle and choke.
Fortunately, I do not giggle or choke. I succeed in being all sexy and sucking the spoon off. As my lips finally leave it, Dale's gaze flicks to where my tongue darts out to lick a piece of chocolate from the corner of my lips.
His gaze shifts, something akin to heat emerging. Dale Sterling is staring at my lips like he wants a taste. Pretty sure my heart is trying to pound out of my chest to see this for itself.
I'm not reading his expression wrong.
He clears his throat, blinking rapidly before dipping the spoon again while I chew on my piece. I watch his lips with the same rapt attention as he watched mine as he puts the piece in his mouth.
He's all business with that spoon, not gearing toward seduction the way I did. Then again, it' look a little odd if he sucked the spoon like a dick.
Doesn't take away from the fact his lips are perfect. Doesn't make me stop staring. As much as I love chocolate, watching Dale's lips have me squirming in my seat and my stomach so full of butterflies that I can't eat another piece.
He dips the spoon again, and I continue to watch. He's watching me watch him. It's like mouth porn or something.
He puts the spoon down, but my eyes stay fixed on his lips as he finishes chewing. And as he takes a sip of his water. And as he motions for the waiter.
I'm frozen. Still staring.
I'm not even sure when the waiter returns, but I finally blink out of my trance when Dale hands him the tab and says something to him.
"I can walk you to your car if you want. I'd like to invite you back to my place and have a drink, if you're comfortable with that," he says, causing my stomach to jump up into my throat and start shoving for room, because my heart is stuck there too.
"Yeah," I say too quickly, sounding like an eager virgin who has a crush on the school's quarterback.
He flashes a grin as he stands, and I hope and pray there's not a wet spot in my seat or on the back of my dress when I stand too. Let's face it, the mouth porn has left me an aroused mess.