“Do you live alone?” I ask as we near his shop. The stained glass windows on the upper floor are glowing beautifully, and I wonder what his apartment looks like inside.
“Yup. I’ve had some roommates in the past at other apartments, but this place is sacred to me, so I really don’t want any friends living with me and trashing it. It’s pretty big inside, three bedrooms. Do you want to come in and see it? It’s really pretty. The woodwork and the stained glass are all original. It’s actually been in some magazines.”
Eek. I can’t go into his apartment. That would be totally inappropriate. Right? “No, but thank you,” I say politely. “It sounds really beautiful.”
He looks down at me with a hopeful smile. “Maybe next time,” he says.
Just like the last time I was here after hours, my car and an older black Corvette are in the dark parking lot.
“Is that your car?” I ask, motioning to the ’Vette.
“Yes. That’s my baby. I wish this place had a garage I could keep it in. It’s the only thing I don’t like about living here.”
“Corvettes are such pretty cars. I’ve always liked them.”
Reaching my own boring mom-car, we stop walking and he turns to me. “Me too,” he agrees. “Especially the older models. They have beautifully designed curves, like a woman.”
Wow. Very sensual comparison. And true.
I lean against the front fender of my car and peer up at him. He really is extremely good looking—those dark eyes, paired with his chiselled jaw and crooked smile, make me want to just sit and look at him. “Thank you for dinner,” I say, hating to end the first good night I’ve had in a very long time. “It was really good, especially that latte. That was yummy.”
He steps closer to me and pushes his hair out of his face. “I want to see you again,” he says softly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
My insides melt, and I of course reply with something lame. “I have my next appointment in two weeks.”
He gently lifts my chin with his finger and holds it there, luring me to look up into his deep, chestnut eyes. “No. Not for that,” he replies.
“F-for what?” My voice is shaky, just like the rest of me right now. Having his body so close to mine, his finger still under my chin, and those eyes of his locked on to mine are all shocks to my sheltered little foundation.
“Dinner,” he replies. “I can cook for you, or we can go out. Your choice.”
“Lukas . . .” I can’t do this.
“Don’t say no, Ivy.” His voice is gentle and hopeful. “I’ll give you as many forks as you want, and I’ll try not to think about putting things in your mouth,” he teases, making me laugh. I’m not sure how he can be so sweet, adorable, and sexual at the same time. It’s completely rattling.
“I’m really not ready to date yet,” I admit. “My head is still messed up.”