The Marriage Contract(22)

His breath left him in a whoosh. He’d thought she was just as interested as he was, but there was always the risk of miscommunication. No longer. Now he knew exactly where Callie stood. She wanted him, whether she was comfortable with the feeling or not. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “In that case, I hope you’re hungry, because here comes our food.”





Callie had no idea what she ate. It could have been the most magnificent meal ever put in front of her or something served out the back of a truck, and she never would have known. Not when all she could focus on was Teague. He didn’t touch her again, but she was painfully aware of every move he made. How hadn’t she noticed his hands last night? They were wide and strong, and there was a scattering of tattoos across his knuckles. She’d seen them before, of course, but most of the men she knew had tattoos of one sort or another so it hadn’t really registered until now.

God, she wanted his hands on her.

The strength of the desire was enough to have her feeling skittish and uncertain, to the point that if he’d pushed any harder, she would have made some excuse and gotten out of there. It was a distraction, and not one she could afford. She hadn’t forgotten the fact that he wanted to know who caused the bruises on her neck—it was only a matter of time before he asked about it again. She didn’t know him nearly well enough to put her life and the safety of everyone under Sheridan protection in his hands.

Which meant she had to start finding out more information—the sooner, the better. “What are your thoughts on human trafficking?”

Teague raised his brows. “You leave something to be desired when it comes to light dinner conversation.”

“Would you rather I ask for your favorite color?”

“It’s gray.” He speared a piece of his salmon. “And I think human trafficking is one of the most despicable things people do to each other. I was under the impression that the Sheridans shared the sentiment.”

They did, but that didn’t mean she could take anything for granted. “We do.”

“Thought so.” He watched her for a long moment. “Any deep, dark secrets that I should know about before I slip the ring onto your finger?”

It took everything she had not to choke on her steak. Callie chewed mechanically, staring at her plate. He didn’t know. He was just teasing. She hoped. She swallowed. “Of course not. All my secrets are right out in the open.”

Teague snorted. “I doubt that.”

Because he wasn’t stupid. Even normal people had secrets that they kept close to their chest and never shared, even with the ones they loved most. For someone in their lifestyle, it was a given. She sipped her wine. “And you? Do you have skeletons in your closet that will pop up at the first available opportunity?”

“Not a single one.”

He was lying the same way she was, but she couldn’t call him on it without giving him the opportunity of doing the same. She hadn’t really thought it would be that easy, had she? She gave a reluctant smile. “Then it seems we’re more fortunate than most engaged couples.”

“Most definitely.” The curve of his lips was tempered with the considering look in his eyes, and she had to remind herself for the millionth time not to underestimate him.

She sat back. “Good.”

“Wonderful.”

“Perfect.” She paused, and then laughed. A real one this time. “We’re quite the pair.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The waiter appeared with the check. She started to reach for it, but froze when Teague shot her a sharp look. He plucked the book from the man’s hands. “Don’t insult me by suggesting we split the check.”

Since she’d been about to do just that, she kept her mouth shut and watched as he pulled out his wallet and left a stack of bills on the table. He pushed to his feet and moved behind her chair to pull it out for her. It was such an old-world gentlemanly thing to do, she found herself letting down her guard a little as she stood. Teague offered her his arm, and she wasted no time resting her hand on his forearm, acutely aware of the strength she felt beneath the thin fabric of his dress shirt.

They drew stares as they made their way to the entrance, but she kept her eyes forward. Most people had heard the names of their families in passing—one was hard pressed to live in Boston and not know such things—but she’d always made an effort to stay out of the news. Being known as a Mafia princess was enough to put a bad taste in her mouth, and that was before Ronan had died. Now? Now, she had bigger things to worry about.