New York Billionaires Series

I rock back on my heels, bag in hand. He’d said wait outside my house and dress nice, whatever that means-is it nice enough for a ball? Or we’re going to a bar? The lack of specificity feels like a very masculine oversight.

He’s also late. Well, two minutes, but it’s given the nerves in my stomach ample time to go crazy. They multiply at the speed of light, and if the graph is exponential, I’ll be in trouble in ten minutes.

But I don’t have to wait long. A familiar black car pulls to a stop in front of the curb. My heart explodes with nerves, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Carter steps out, and the moment I see him, something inside me stills. It’s him. I can do this. I have done it many times before with him.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

“Hello,” he says. He’s wearing a suit, no tie, topped with a crooked smile. “How do you feel?”

“Much better than when you saw me last. My teeth feel all better now.”

He bends to kiss my cheek. “Glad to hear it. Ready to go?”

“Where?”

“I think I’ll keep that a surprise.”

“Sneaky.” We get into the car and it takes off, weaving through traffic and back toward the city. Neither of us speaks.

Carter shifts closer. “I’d tell you that you look beautiful, and I’d mean it, but I don’t want to set off those nerves of yours.”

I chuckle. Acknowledging them feels better. “They’re already set off,” I say. “But strangely enough, it’s not that bad.”

“A resounding success. Does that mean I can say it?”

“You can.” I glance toward the driver, but he has his eyes on the road. Is he listening?

Carter doesn’t seem to care. “You look stunning,” he says. “Far better than nice.”

“Nice is hard to shoot for,” I say. “It’s a moving target.”

His eyes dip to my lips. “Well, you overshot it. But I’m not complaining.”

“Aren’t you nervous at all? About us and… dating?”

“I’m terrified inside. Shaking like a leaf, kid.” It’s so obviously an exaggeration, with him sitting there his usual composed self, that it makes me laugh.

The car pulls to stop outside a bar. It takes me a moment to recognize the place. “Wait. Is this…?”

“Where we met, yeah,” Carter says. “I thought it would be poetic to have our first date here.”

Something warms in my chest. “Our first?”

“Yes. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

He leads me inside, his hand light on my lower back. I lean into his side and breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne and soap and something else, something that’s just him.

We have a seat in the back. It’s far away from where I sat with my obnoxious blind date, and even further from where Carter had lounged at the bar.

“Did you really watch my date?” I ask him. “Last time we were here?”

“Of course. Someone had to make sure you weren’t meeting a serial killer on that blind date of yours.”

“I saw who you were meeting, you know. The blonde.”

He gives a half-shrug. “It wasn’t serious.”

“No, that much was clear,” I say, and throw caution to the wind. “Do you ever date seriously?”

“Not if I can help it,” he says with a wink.

I laugh. It’s what I expected, anyway, and having it confirmed feels good. Safer, somehow. Whatever happens, I know we can bow out with a laugh and a smile. “Right. So how long will I keep your interest on this date?” I say. “Until dessert, at least?”

Carter tilts his head, considering. “Yes, but give or take a decade, probably.”

We talk about everything, drifting from one topic to the other with a fluidity that feels preordained. The Globe , journalism, movies we’ve seen, his business trip, his hotel room, and then inevitably, the call.

I ignore the heat in my cheeks. “I didn’t expect it,” I admit.

“No,” he says. “Neither did I. It wasn’t what I called you for, you know.”

“Why did you call? Not that I minded.”

He leans back in his chair and gives me a studying glance.

“Come on,” I say. “Tell me. I can take it. Had you been drinking?”

“I didn’t call you because I was drunk,” he says. “I called you because I was jealous.”

“Oh. Really?”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. Not very chivalrous, perhaps, but that’s the truth. I’d promised to talk to you about dating, to give you a male perspective, but truth be told I stopped enjoying that a while back.”

The world tilts on its axis. Had I misread things from the beginning? Had he always… was this… “Oh,” I say again.

“You look shocked,” he says. “Can’t be the first time a man admits to wanting you?”

No, I think, but it’s the first time in forever I’ve wanted him back.

“I didn’t mean to talk your ear off about my dates. I had no idea you minded,” I say. The memories feel awful now, somehow. Forcing him to listen to things he didn’t want to hear. “I didn’t think you…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carter says, his half-smile back. “I know you had your reservations about me. Slashing jobs and all that.”

I shake my head. “No, I just didn’t know it was an option. Didn’t really consider it, even. You seemed so far above me. And you always wear a suit.”

His eyebrows rise. “You told me I looked handsome in suits.”

“I did? Oh. The anaesthesia.”