Greg Lewis, who, so far, seemed like he was the perfect man for the “keeping things straightforwardly casual” job. He was handsome in an airbrushed sort of way. He had ridiculously nice teeth. If the other guy she’d shown Dax was Mr. Versace, this guy was Mr. Hilfiger. Wearing jeans and a blazer with a red-and-white-striped T-shirt underneath, he reminded her of a grown-up, updated version of Archie from the comics. He even had the slicked-back blond hair. Which looked like it had so much product in it, it was a little crunchy.
So, fine, she wouldn’t run her fingers through his hair. You can’t have everything.
More importantly, he was nice. He was interested in her job and was himself kind of a real estate hobbyist. He was a corporate lawyer, but he and his brother had recently flipped a house. They got a lot of mileage talking about that over dinner in Little Italy, where he lived.
The only problem she could foresee was that Greg might be too nice. She feared he wasn’t presuming this date was going to end the way she hoped it was. Under normal circumstances, she supposed a girl should appreciate that. But her post-Mason circumstances were…very specific.
She thought about Steve, responding to the “ask out Amy” challenge with the direct approach. Maybe he’d been right. “Um, Greg?” she ventured as they shared some tiramisu. “Can I level with you about something?”
“Sure.”
“I just got out of a relationship, as you know.” They’d done the basic getting-to-know-you conversation, both via email before the date and during it. She’d told him about Mason, though had left out the whole “jilted at the altar” part. “So I’m not really looking for anything serious.”
“Right.” He nodded. “I totally understand.”
“But I do…like you.” Gah! How did people do this? “If you, ah, know what I mean.”
He smiled. He knew what she meant.
“I’m just a ten-minute walk up Grace Street. You want to come over for a nightcap?”
Yes! This was how people did it. She just had to learn the code.
Fifteen minutes later—they’d stopped to analyze a house that was for sale along the way—they arrived at Greg’s place. As he fixed her a drink, she surreptitiously texted Cassie the address. When her friend had learned about Amy’s Tinder mission, she’d made her promise to do so if she went home with anyone.
As Greg showed her around the impeccably decorated main floor, he was very forthcoming with details about the house’s sale price ten years ago and the improvements he’d made since. The perfect foreplay for her—how thoughtful! She padded around after him, wine in hand, admiring the subway tile backsplash and eighteen-inch crown moldings. For some reason, an image of Dax’s charmingly disheveled cottage popped into her head.
“You want to see the upstairs?”
Was that part of the code? Well, either way, the answer was yes. “I’d love to.”
The tour made stops in an office, a guest room, and a ridiculously well-appointed bathroom. The tub was about three times as big as Dax’s and—
“This is the master bedroom.”
Right. Master bedroom.
He gestured for her to precede him. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the gray walls, dark wood dresser, and the enormous, masculine-looking bed made up in tones of taupe, gray, and dark green. When she completed her rotation, he was at her side, gently tugging the wineglass out of her hand. She relinquished it and watched him set both glasses on the bedside table. Was this really happening?
His palm on her cheek answered that yes, yes it was. A shiver shot through her, but it was more fear than lust, and to be honest, she felt a little like she might throw up. She’d anticipated being nervous, but not this much. She’d feared that maybe, as with Dax, she’d get to a certain point and have a repeat of that little freak-out in the hotel room. She hadn’t banked on it being so hard to…get started.
Well, if she wanted this, the only thing to do was just do it. So she lifted herself onto her tiptoes. He seemed to know what was coming because he ducked his head to meet her halfway and their lips touched, tentatively at first, and then with more pressure. He was a good kisser, very gradually deepening the kiss and gently stroking her face and neck. When his tongue tested the seam of her lips, it seemed very gentlemanly, like he was formally requesting permission to enter. She smiled against his lips and granted it. It was funny how everything felt very orderly. The opposite of her encounters with Dax, where she’d wanted to climb on top of him, and, frankly, shove her tongue down his throat from the first moment.