Page 11 of Auctioned to Dr. Daddy

“It’s a date,” I tease.

And then, feeling a little bold myself—thank you, champagne—I lean in and give him a hug. Well, I lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, but that champagne bravery drops away at the last minute, and I just curl my arms around his neck in a tight hug instead.

So much for impressing him, right?

My fingers tangle in the back of his shirt. I don’t know where his suit jacket ended up. Draped over the back of one of the chairs, maybe.

He smells like vanilla and oak wood and something else, almost musky.

I pull back, and tell him goodnight, sliding into the back of the cab. The door clicks shut behind me, and I sag into the seat.

Wow.

That was a seriously long night.

And it’s not over yet, either. Technically, it’s going to bleed straight into tomorrow.

There’s a lot riding on this one date. I want to impress him. I just have to figure out how to do that.

The driver asks, “Where to?”

“Apple Green Farm,” I say, passing along the address so it can be punched into his maps system.

“Just wake me up when we get there.”

Chapter Five

Nathan

Thewavescrashagainstthe shores, mixing gently with the soft violin music spilling out of the speakers at Aphrodite, the waterfront restaurant that was booked for my ‘date’ with pretty Miss Demi Winters.

It’s not the sort of place I would normally go for a meal, a little too many frills for that, but Demi seems enamored by it.

She’s definitely dressed up for the night.

Her hair has been swept up into a tight and fancy-looking updo. My gaze sweeps over her form, taking in the way that her pink dress clings to her frame, highlighting her curves. A turquoise ring clings to her finger.

As far as I can tell, Demi is confident in everything except romance—the difference with last night is quite interesting.

Any time that I try to compliment her, the way she carries herself changes a little. She’s so bashful about it that even the set of her shoulders ends up softening.

Asking her to call me Nate had the same effect.

Half-wanting to impress and half-playing up the act for the kicks of it, I pull the chair out for her when she goes to sit down. Demi’s cheeks go red.

“Oh, thank you,” she mutters and gives me one of those soft smiles of hers.

“Anytime,” I tell her, taking my own seat. “God, you look great tonight.”

Her flush deepens.

She swipes a hand over the front of her dress, hesitating a moment, and then seems to make the decision not to let nerves get the best of her.

She breathes in deep, her shoulders settling as she tilts her head to the side and gives me an almost coy look, lashes flashing. “I’d say the same back, but you always look amazing.”

“Only in magazine light,” I laugh. “You should see me after a shift. I look like a mess.”

“Sure, but a mess might be a great look on you.”

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