Page 48 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

I didn’t expect him to kiss my fingertips. “Do you want to skip the fancy eats and the gala altogether?”

“Yes.” My answer was immediate. “But I feel bad making you come out here.”

“I didn’t mean we cancel the date entirely. We just skip that crap. We can still have fun. Why waste a babysitter, right?” His gaze dropped to my bare thighs for a millisecond. “And that dress.”

“Right. Wait, what are we going to do?”

“Well, dressed as we are, our options are more along the upscale variety. How do you feel about wine and hard cider?”

I blinked. “I haven’t had either in a very long time.”

“That settles it then.” He rose and held out a hand to help me up. “Have you been to Brothers Three Orchard? They just opened for the summer season.”

“Oh, nice.”

He laughed. “Are you not interested? We can do something else. But they have musical entertainment most weekends of the summer, both in The Lodge and outside in their concert venue for the bigger bands. And not that Muzak crap. Actual rockstars go there too. Probably some even Berry knows.”

I did my best to look excited. “Oh, yay, rockstars.”

He laughed again and took my hand to lead me down the steps to the passenger side of his convertible. “If you’re not into it, we’ll leave. The drive to the orchard is nice in any case and the weather is perfect tonight.”

I glanced up at the stars, not shocked to catch a glimpse of one shooting through the sky. Maybe my luck was turning.

He opened my door, and I gripped it, turning to give him a smile. “Thanks for being so cool about this. I know I’m uptight and nervous and—”

“And beautiful and talented and funny and smart. God, the hardship.” He kissed my forehead and nudged me into the car.

Yeah, maybe my luck was turning. I’d kissed a gorgeous man and hadn’t freaked out or overanalyzed it. Yet. He was starting the engine of his sinful convertible, and we were on a date.

A real honest-to-God date on a lovely evening.

I wasn’t just a mom. I was a woman too. I wasn’t going to fuck this up, I vowed. I was going to relax and enjoy every moment as it came.

But I didn’t need condoms. It wasn’t that kind of date.

I sneaked a glance at his handsome profile as he reversed out of the drive, one arm on the back of my seat.

Dammit.

ELEVEN

This night had been illuminatingon a number of levels.

Shelby liked to dance. She had endless energy when there was music involved and libations.

Not that she overindulged. No indeed. She just sipped her wine on breaks from dancing in front of the entertainment stage at The Lodge at Brothers Three Orchard, where tonight’s musical guest—one Ian Kagan all the way from Britain by way of California—was using the more intimate space to try out some new music. Currently, he was singing in his accented lilt about finding that one woman who made everything make sense.

I wasn’t analyzing that overmuch, thanks.

Realizing the tempo had slowed, Shelby dropped down into the chair across from me and grabbed her white wine spritzer, gulping it and fanning herself with her hand. Both hands. Her cheeks were flushed that attractive apricot color that had earned her nickname and only became more so the faster she gulped.

I had kept up with her on the dance floor, but only just. She’d had no desire to sit. At least until the slow music started and couples filtered in, swaying together unabashedly.

I nudged my untouched glass of ice water toward her and she took it gratefully, sipping that too now that her wine and her own water were gone. The flush in her cheeks remained.

“Want me to order some food?”

She waved me off. “Nah, I’m not hungry yet. I’ll take another of those spritzers though.” She smacked her lips together and ran her hand over the back of her neck, lifting the loose tendrils of hair that had come free from her updo. “I’m dying of the heat.”

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