Page 36 of Under His Touch

I rush around my apartment and get ready to meet Alec. At least I’ve convinced him to stop scaring the women off by blurting out that he wants a marriage in name only, and he promised he’d at least try to find common ground and give the relationship a chance. Yet none of the women have measured up to what he needs. Or so he says. I have the feeling he’s not trying hard enough, and the women are the ones backing away, which is why I am now stepping in to go on a date with him. I want to see firsthand what he’s like, how he acts and treats his dates. If he’s coming off as some hard-assed, guarded businessman, no wonder he can’t get a second date.

We’re going to my favorite Mexican restaurant, and with the weather warmer and the nights growing longer, I slip into one of my favorite dresses, a little black number that can be dressed up or dressed down. As it slides down my sides, the soft material scraping my skin, the sudden visual of Alec tearing it from my body sends heat to my core.

“Oh, my,” I say under my breath as I fasten the button at the back and contort my arms to zip it up. I put on a bit of mascara, a light dusting of blush and swipe my favorite pink lipstick across my lips, which are still kiss-swollen from last night, and all the nights before.

The buzzer sounds, and I rush to my front door and press it, giving Alec access to the building. A moment later a knock comes on my door, and I take a deep breath. Why the hell am I so nervous? This is Alec, and I’ve been in bed with him numerous times.

You’ve never gone on a date, though.

But it’s not even like it’s a real date. We both know that. I’m only doing this to critique him. Right?

Okay, stop overanalyzing things, Megan.

I slip on my shoes and smooth my dress down, and pull myself together as I walk to the door. I swing it open, and when I find Alec standing there, looking casual and yummy in his chinos and button-down shirt, I nearly falter in my heels.

With one hand behind his back, he reaches out, touches the tumble of hair flirting with my shoulders. “You’re beautiful,” he says, his gaze slowly sliding down the length of me.

“You are, too,” I say for lack of anything else.

He grins at me, a grin so sexy and so full of mischief and promise, I almost forget how to breathe. Surprising me, he produces a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

“Nice touch,” I say. Jeez, I can’t remember the last time a guy gave me flowers, a real date or not.

“I thought so.”

“Modest, too. For the life of me I don’t understand why you can’t get a second date,” I tease.

“I’m not sure I’d use the word can’t.”

“Your ego won’t allow that?” I tease.

“I told you, those women weren’t right. You’re doing a good job picking them. They fit all my criteria on paper, but there’s something missing when we meet face-to-face.”

“You have to stop being so picky,” I say as I take the flowers into the kitchen. I fill a vase with water and drop them in. I turn back around and reach for my purse. “Ready?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, and follows me to the door. We step into the hall and I lock up. A few minutes later we’re in his Tesla heading to Lindo’s. Alec finds a parking spot and comes around my side of the car to let me out.

“So far, so good,” I say to him. “That would impress any woman, I’m sure.”

He grins. “I’m not an ogre. I do have manners. Plus, you’re grading me, so I’m pulling out all the stops.” He slides his arm around my body, placing his hand on the small of my back, and a fine shiver moves through me. “Cold?” he asks, his brow furrowed with genuine concern, and I hate how much I like that.

“Not really.” No sense in lying. The man is well aware of what his touch does to me.

“Ah,” he says, his grin widening. “We could skip dinner and head straight to my place.”

“Alec,” I warn, even though I’m in love with the idea. “We need to focus.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, and opens the restaurant door. I step inside and breathe in the delicious scents as I glance around the dimly lit, cozy and somewhat romantic restaurant. Alec stands close as the hostess comes our way, so close I can smell his freshly soaped skin as well as the aroma that is uniquely Alec.

Alec gives his name and reservation time, and the hostess checks her tablet before leading us to a small table in the back corner. Light from the candle dances across his handsome face as we take our seats.

“Nicest table in the place,” I say to him, and look around, noting the way some woman keeps casting glances our way. A former lover? My stomach knots at the thought and I push it down. Not my business, nor my issues.

Alec opens the wine list and hands it to me. “What would you like?” he asks.

“I’d love a glass of chardonnay,” I say, and hand it back. The waiter comes to take our drink orders, and Alec orders wine for me and a soda for himself.

“You’re not having anything?” I ask.

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