you know I haven't got a boyfriend waiting at home?"
This time he simply shrugged, his countenance restored to normal, and took another sip of what remains of his wine.
"I'm generally quite well-informed," he said.
"You checked up on me?"
Her outrage would be much more convincing if she hadn't spent several evenings doing the exact same thing.
"Please, Emmy, first rule of business — know your opponent. Don't tell me you didn't do any reading up on me."
She shook her head.
"Maybe I should have some more wine after all. I can't believe we're even having this conversation. You do realize that it's a horrible idea? The whole — date me and I'll extend your lease?"
The self-deprecating laugh sounded quite genuine, at any rate.
"Maybe so, but indulge me. A few more dates, and I'd be willing to give you another three months extension — I'll even consider longer."
"Just extending the deadline doesn't change the shape of the deal. You're still the evil landlord who wants to wreck my store."
"Maybe, but you'd get until next July to change my mind — and I promise to listen to your arguments."
"It still sounds like a terrible idea."
"But I can tell you're starting to consider it," he said, and damn him for seeing through her.
"I'm not sleeping with you to save my bookstore," she said, and then wished she hadn't.
"No sex," he said, his expression serious, and she burst out laughing.
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
"People may have mentioned it before. So do we have a deal?"
"I'll think about it. But I ought to be going home now. It's been quite an evening."
The bill was disposed of swiftly, and Eric insisted on helping her with her coat before slipping on his. As they walked out, he hovered close to her, and she was secretly glad she'd worn heels, because even then, he towered above her. He walked quickly, in great strides, and she increased her pace to match, their steps echoing on the empty plaza.
"Did you drive?" he asked her, and Emmy scoffed.
"Unlike you, I'm a real New Yorker, Eric — I don't have a car."
"Could I give you a ride home?"
"No, I'll be fine with the subway," she said quickly, because God knows what would happen if she found herself in a car with him. "But thank you."
"Can I at least put you in a cab?"
"No — seriously. I take the subway all the time — it's no big deal."
His hand was on her arm, and he stopped, looking down at her with something very like concern on his face.
"And what about that gang of punks we saw earlier? What if you run into them again?"
"Come on, Eric, I can look after myself. It's only public transportation, you know. The way most of us get around?"
There was something almost possessive about his behavior, and that irritated her — Emmy liked her independence, and counted it as one of the great advantages of not having a boyfriend, no matter the drawbacks. There was a fine line between meaning well and overstepping boundaries, and Eric was close to the latter.
"Will you at least allow me to walk you to the subway stop?"
"Yes," she conceded, rolling her eyes, and they made their way down the steps side by side.
"I had a delightful evening, Miss Flanagan," he said formally when they reach the subway entrance at 66th St, and he took her hand in his, warm fingers wrapped around her palm, and held it for a moment, looking at her through his lashes, his eyes impossibly blue.
The contact was unexpectedly thrilling, sending a tingle of excitement through Emmy's whole body. She caught her breath — handholding hadn't had that effect on her since fifth grade. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth, eyes still on hers, and brushed his lips — dry, warm, slightly chapped — on the back of her hand. It was old-fashioned, absurd and curiously erotic, to the extent that she could feel herself blushing again, the warmth rising from her chest to her cheeks. She felt a little giddy, even after he let go.
"Thank you very much," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I had a great time. It was... delicious."
"Will you do me a favor? Can you let me know when you made it home?" he said as she turned to go, reaching into his wallet for a business card on which he scrawled something with his pen.
Emmy in turn took an Open Book card from her purse; when they exchanged she saw